Bleeding On the Inside
by Cherry Blossom
Summary: Happy anniversary to me...
1. Prologue

Bleeding On the Inside – Author's Notes

"Rape's not something where you just go,'Well, get over it' or

'Believe in love and peace, my child, and it'll all be over.' Well, fuck

you, that isn't the answer. It's a great thought, OK, but you can go

and stick crystals up your butt and get on with it. I'm all for love and

peace, but that's not the side I work on. If somebody would talk

about it, or worse, joke about it, I would be ready to kill. That's not

healing. It was a very long time after that before I was able to be with

anyone again. And it has never been the same as it was before."

~Tori Amos

Before you read this fic you should know that the events that happened are based on a true story: my story. Most of you who have followed my work know that I've been in Europe for a time, studying. It was overseas that something precious was taken from me, something I'll never be able to regain. It was there in that town, in that store where I experienced something that no child should ever have to experience. Nonetheless, I have survived. And now, as part of my healing, I am telling the story, my story, in a form I am comfortable with. It is definitely the hardest thing I have ever had to write. Some may wonder why I chose to tell it with Quatre in my stead since I am a girl. I chose Quatre because it didn't matter. It didn't matter to that man that I was a girl, that I was a child, that I was a foreigner, that I was a good kid who never talked to strangers, that I was supposed to be having the time of my life out there. It didn't matter to him. It doesn't matter to me either. 

I am not just writing this story as a healing for myself, but as a warning to others. Sexual assault does happen and it happens anywhere to anybody. Don't fall into that trap of thinking that it can't happen to you. We can no longer afford to ignore the tears and pain of millions of victims around the world. If you know someone who has been sexually assaulted or if you yourself have been sexually assaulted, speak out. Don't let your pain be ignored. Below are some websites with more information. Please do what you can to help. Don't let my story become your story.

Cherry Blossom


	2. Me and a Gun

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, eventual 3x4/1x2 content. 

*

ME AND A GUN

5am friday morning thursday night far from sleep I'm

still up and driving can't go home obviously so I'll

just change direction cause they'll soon know where

I live and I wanna live got a full tank and some chips

it was me and a gun and a man on my back and I

sang "holy holy" as he buttoned down his pants me

and a gun and a man on my back but I haven't seen

Barbados so I must get out of this yes I wore a

slinky red thing does that mean I should spread for

you your friends your father Mr Ed and I know what

this means me and Jesus a few years back used to

hang and he said "it's your choice babe just

remember I don't think you'll be back in 3 days time

so you choose well" tell me what's right is it my

right to be on my stomach of Fred's Seville and do

you know Carolina where the biscuits are soft and

sweet these things go through your head when

there's a man on your back and you're pushed flat

on your stomach it's not a classic cadillac

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter One – Me and a Gun

Quatre walked quickly down the street, almost skipping with concealed joy and excitement. He smiled and clasped his hands in front of him to keep from waving them around in pride.

__

'Finally,' he thought, '_finally I've managed to lose them.'_

The "them" he was referring to, was the usual troop of twenty some-odd members of the Maguanac Corps who had taken to following him wherever he went, just to make sure he was "safe". Quatre found them annoying, not to mention embarrassing. Who had ever heard of a fifteen-year-old needing constant supervision like that? And he was a Gundam pilot for God's sake! It was humiliating. So, that morning when Quatre stepped out he formed a plan to ditch his followers using a complicated series of twists and turns through back alleys, careful to choose ones that were _not_ presently occupied by drug dealers and the like. Quatre was impulsive, not stupid. After taking a few unexpected turns, Quatre hid himself behind a shrub and waited for the confused Maguanacs to pass by. Feeling like a child in a game of hide and seek, Quatre had to bite down hard on his lips to keep from giggling when he saw the familiar fez-covered heads move past his bush in the totally wrong direction. Quatre waited until he could no longer detect their footsteps before emerging from his cover and looking around.

'Rashid's going to be mad at me,' he realized, feeling a bit guilty for tricking them that way, 'but I need some time to myself once and a while. They'll understand.'

"Now," he said aloud, clapping his hands. "What shall I do since I'm all by myself today?"

He looked down at his clothes, which were a bit stained with dirt from the bush and one sleeve of his shirt was torn where it caught on a branch.

He nodded to himself. 

'New clothes. I need to go shopping. And maybe I can pick up something for Wufei's birthday next week.'

Satisfied with this plan, Quatre headed off down the street to where the best department stores in town were located. He hummed happily to himself while he walked, feeling truly independent now that there were no Maguanacs or fellow pilots to baby-sit him. He didn't have to follow anyone's orders but his own today and it felt wonderful. Smiling, Quatre paused to help a woman gather up the bags she had dropped while waiting for a light to change. She thanked him gratefully, made a big fuss and called him a nice boy, making the poor Arab blush deeply. He adamantly refused the money she tried to shove into his hands and waved cheerily after her as she crossed the street. 

'People are so nice here. I wish we were staying longer,'he thought as continued on his search for a clothing store. 

The country the pilots were presently staying in was not particularly large or important so it was a very good place to conceal themselves without drawing any unnecessary attention. It also happened to be the place the delegates of each respective nation, including the colonies, would be meeting for the peace talks in two weeks. All the pilots had been skeptical about the anticipated success of these talks and decided to stay close in case OZ decided to attack the delegates while they were all conveniently gathered in one place.

The small town of the outskirts of the big city provided a temporary home to the boys. They had been here for three weeks and Quatre was beginning to become accustomed to the place, having learned where everything was. So far he had liked this place better then any of the other safe houses the boys had been shacked up in. But he knew that they would have to leave eventually. OZ always found out where they were and they couldn't risk having a battle here: there would be too many innocent casualties. 

Shaking his head to clear it of these depressing thoughts, Quatre glanced down the street at the row of promising looking clothing stores. 

'Now let's see…which one should I go in first?'

Closing his eyes, Quatre pointed at random to a store, not caring that he looked rather silly. He opened his eyes and viewed his choice.

'Cadmy's Clothing for Men…sounds good to me!'

Smiling, Quatre headed into the store, hearing the small ring of the bell over the door announce his presence to the clerk. He glanced around at the rows and rows of silky looking shirts, sharply cut jackets, pants, casual wear...basically every type of clothing you could want. One thing in particular caught his eye. It was a suit in a soft gray colour, tailored to flatter a slim waist and thin frame. It was beautiful.

"May I help you?"

Quatre turned and stumbled, a little surprised by the closeness of the voice. Strong arms grasped his shoulders and held him steady. Quatre could see the whiteness of a shirt in front of him, the buttons gleaming pearly in the strange store lighting. Quatre craned his head up to look into a pair of dark eyes. He shivered, a bit uncomfortable. Something in those eyes…

"I'm sorry, I seem to have startled you." The man smiled. Somehow, the smile disturbed Quatre even more than the eyes had. He swallowed and wriggled a little in the grasp. Then man got the hint and let go, stepping back out of Quatre's personal space. 

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just jumpy today I guess," Quatre replied, able to dismiss his misgivings now that a good foot of space was between him and the store clerk.

"Can I help you with anything? Are you looking for something in particular? My name's Kyle, by the way."

Quatre took a deep breath and pushed down the strange uncomfortable feeling he had. The man was just trying to do his job. Why was his pulse racing? And why were all his senses screaming "danger!"?

'I'm just being silly. There's no danger here. I'm in a well-known store in broad daylight for crying out loud!'

"Actually, I was wondering if I could try on that," Quatre said, pointing to the gray suit he had been looking at before.

Kyle walked over to the suit and started rifling through the sizes.

"Good choice! It'll look stunning on you. What's your size?" 

Fighting down a blush at the clerk's comment, Quatre stammered a reply. "I…I don't really know…"

"You look about a seven," Kyle said brusquely, pulling out a suit of the correct size and bringing it over to Quatre. "Dressing Rooms are right this way. Follow me, please."

Quatre followed the taller man, feeling more uneasy with every step. He regretted coming shopping by himself now. He couldn't explain what was bothering him about the situation so much. He convinced himself that he was just a little nervous because it was his first time out on his own. That was all.

'I'm such a baby! I can't even go shopping without getting myself all freaked out. Some Gundam pilot I am.'

"Here," Kyle showed him to a small cubical with a curtain separating it from the rest of the room. Quatre looked around. He could see no one else in the change rooms and this bothered him for some reason. He thought about telling the clerk to forget it but shrugged that thought aside. He'd look really stupid if he decided not to try on the suit now and besides, he didn't want to irritate the clerk who was already hanging up the clothes on the door and staring at him expectantly.

"Thank you," Quatre said, as he closed the curtain.

"Just tell me if you need a different size or something," Kyle said, his muffled footsteps sounding on the carpet. 

Quatre waited until he was sure the man had gone away before slowly taking his shirt off and hanging it on the hook next to the suit. Flinging his shoes into a corner, Quatre looked at his face in the mirror. It was pale and his eyes were wide. He didn't know what was making him so nervous but he didn't like it one little bit. He undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, sliding them off to pool in a heap on the floor. Quickly, Quatre took the pants off the hook and shoved his legs into them, feeling a bit silly about his haste.

'It's not as if someone is watching me or anything…'

Quatre shrugged on the jacket and observed his reflection. The soft grey colour made his eyes seem darker, more worldly. His hands were nearly engulfed by the sleeves, though, proving that maybe he was a size six after all. 

"Everything okay in there?"

Quatre jumped at the voice and then cursed his skittishness. 

'It's only the clerk,' he admonished himself.

"I could use a smaller size," Quatre called back. There were a few scuffling noises and then the voice came again.

"Stay right there and I'll get you a six."

Quatre took off the suit and stood in his boxers, watching his reflection in the mirror. He shivered.

A few minutes later the clerk came back and the curtain was pushed aside. Quatre squeaked in surprise as he tried to cover his nakedness. The clerk didn't seem concerned by it though; he just grabbed the other suit and left the smaller sized one on the hooks in its place.

"This should fit you a lot better," he remarked. "And this colour shirt underneath will bring out those eyes of yours." He handed Quatre a light pearl-coloured dress shirt and left the cubicle. 

Mystified and more than a little confused, Quatre yanked the curtain closed and tried to get the trembling of his hands under control. He felt _very_ uncomfortable now. How could the guy just walk in on him like that? But he didn't seem bothered by it. Should Quatre feel bothered? He didn't know what to think.

Taking another deep, controlling breath, Quatre decided that he might as well get some clothes on before the clerk decided to pop in unannounced again. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders and did up the buttons, his fingers fumbling nervously. He had to admit the colour _did_ bring out his eyes more. He tried on the smaller sized pants and jacket suit and looked in the mirror. This suit fit a lot better and it formed perfectly to his body shape, the cut making him seem a bit taller while enhancing his slim frame. Quatre looked great.

"How are we coming along in there?" the clerk called from outside. Quatre was glad that he didn't come in again.

"Fine," he called. "I think I'll take it."

"Great," the man said. "I'll just ring it up and you bring it to me when you're ready."

Relieved that this shopping experience was almost over, Quatre quickly slid the pants off his legs and began unbuttoning his shirt. Folding the suit neatly on the ground in front of him, Quatre turned to take his regular outfit off the hooks. 

Suddenly, the curtain was shoved aside as a large form came up behind Quatre. He barely had time to gasp as the man grabbed him around the waist and pulled him roughly to his body. Quatre's heart clenched suddenly in a paralyzing fear. He could feel the taller man's erection against his backside and he felt sick as if he might throw up.

'Oh Allah, what is he doing? I can't believe this…this isn't happening, no, no, no…I've got to save myself. But I can't move! Oh please...'

Quatre was frozen, his heart pounding furiously in his ears as the man behind him slowly brought a hand down to stroke the planes of Quatre's stomach, creeping lower and lower until it brushed against his penis. Quatre wanted to scream, wanted to hit, wanted to kick, wanted to cry, but all he could do was watch the horrifying scene in the mirror, watch himself be defiled and used. The fear was cold and terrible, pushing away at the edges of his consciousness. The only thing that kept Quatre from blacking out was the knowledge that if he did, he had no control over what might happen. 

Hot breath poured down on the back of his neck and a wet suction that could only be a mouth attached itself to his shoulder and neck. He felt the man rub himself against Quatre's small body, holding his left wrist so tightly it bruised. The mouth bit down harshly on his shoulder and the hand suddenly slipped inside his boxers, touching him roughly. Bile rose in the back of Quatre's throat as his body betrayed him, helplessly responding to the touch. He could feel the man's smile of triumph against his neck, hear the satisfied little chuckle that escaped the man's lips.

The tears came then: large, hot and silent, coursing down his cheeks in big wet rolls. Quatre's whole body started to tremble and he felt himself falling as his knees gave way…

'No, no, no, no, no, no, no…'

The man gave Quatre's member one last stoke and pressed himself hard against him before releasing the boy to fall motionless to the floor. Then he knelt down beside him and unzipped his pants, the sound of the heavy zipper sliding down echoing loudly in Quatre's ears. Quatre felt two hands grip the edge of his boxers and then pull them down abruptly. Through a dark haze of detachment, he saw the man looming over him in the mirror. He didn't need to see what happened next. He felt it all; the pain, the tearing deep inside, the feeling that things were horribly, horribly wrong and where was mommy to come fix it? Where was mommy and daddy? Where were they?

The man's nails bit into his flesh and he remembered; remembered that mommy and daddy were dead and there was no one to save him this time. The tears blurred his vision, thankfully, and he did not see the man's look of sadistic pleasure, his wicked satisfaction at taking the one thing Quatre had kept purely to himself. After a few minutes it was over.

The man stood up slowly and did up his pants. He smiled and wiped his hand on the curtain before shoving it aside and leaving the cubicle. Quatre lay still on the carpet, eyes wide open and staring into the mirror, at the body lying on the floor, at the wretched creature with eyes like black holes, at his own broken spirit. He didn't say a word. There were no words there to say.

After a while, Quatre got shakily to his feet, grabbing his clothes and putting them on his body, hating to touch his own skin, hating the fabric for touching his skin, hating…

He pushed aside the curtain and looked around. The clerk was no where in sight. Quickly, Quatre walked towards the exit, eyes watching nervously for any sign that the man might come back. He got out the door and down the street before suddenly breaking into a frantic run, panic finally moving him to action now that it could no longer help him.

Quatre ran all the way back to the safe house, in the door, locking it shut behind him. He fled to his room, ignoring the puzzled Duo who called to him from the kitchen. His feet pounded up the stairs, into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He peeled his clothes off frantically, tossing them in a far corner of the room, vowing silently to burn them later. In the bathroom, he turned on the shower, letting the water flow so hot that it scalded his skin at first. Crawling into the shower, Quatre curled into a heap at the bottom of the tub and cried, huge wracking sobs that shook his entire body. 

Tears mingled with shower water.

The hot droplets stung when they hit his body and Quatre was glad, glad that he hurt, glad that there was pain. Maybe if he stayed there long enough, he would become pain. Maybe he would drown in it. Maybe he could become _clean_ again. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

All the while his own silent screams echoed in his head.

'No, no, no, no, no, no, no…'


	3. Little Earthquakes

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and eventual 3x4/1x2 content. 

*

LITTLE EARTHQUAKES

Yellow bird flying gets shot in the wing

good year for hunters and Christmas parties

and I hate

and I hate

and I hate

and I hate elevator music

the way we fight

the way I'm left here silent

oh these little earthquakes

here we go again

oh these little earthquakes

doesn't take much to rip us into pieces

we danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn

we laughed in the faces of kings never afraid to burn

and I hate

and I hate

and I hate

and I hate disintegration

watching us wither

black winged roses that safely changed their color

oh these little earthquakes

here we go again

oh these little earthquakes

doesn't take much to rip us into pieces

I can't reach you

I can't reach you

give me life, give me pain

give me myself again

oh these little earthquakes

here we go again

oh these little earthquakes

doesn't take much to rip us into pieces

doesn't take much to rip us into pieces

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter Two – Little Earthquakes

Duo heard the front door slam and it startled him briefly. For an instant he wondered if Heero had come back early from his mission, or maybe Wufei was returning from his afternoon meditation although those ideas didn't seem plausible. Duo poked his head around the corner of the wall dividing the kitchen and the front hallway just in time to see a blond head disappear around the corner. 

'Quatre?' Duo thought, small frown lines gracing his forehead. 'He must be really upset in order for him to slam the door like that. He _hates_ loud noises.'

"Hey Quatre, wait up!" Duo called up the stairs to the rapidly ascending boy. The blond boy did not halt his progress to his room.

'That's strange…I'm sure he heard me.'

Duo turned to look at the door and his frown grew deeper. Every single bolt and lock had been put in place; even the useless old chain bolt that was all rusted over.

"Something's wrong," Duo muttered to himself, softly. "And I'm gonna find out what it is."

He headed up the stairs after the blond Arabian, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre knelt in the bottom of the hard porcelain tub, one hand frantically trying to scrub his skin raw with a hand cloth, the other pressed closely to his midsection as if trying to keep his insides from pouring out some invisible gaping wound. Blood graced his inner thighs and it scared him to look at it, so he pretended it wasn't there. The bruise on his wrist showed purple and yellow and that also scared him so he hid it underneath the washcloth as he scrubbed. Tears blurred Quatre's vision and his chest heaved with the effort to breathe through the sobs that tore themselves from the back of his throat, but Quatre ignored this. His only thought was to get clean, to become clean again. His mind argued with him.

'Why are you scrubbing so hard? You'll hurt yourself.' 

--don't care…must get clean--
'You shouldn't do this. You're washing away the evidence…' 

--what evidence? nothing happened. must get clean--
'Don't do this.' 

--do what?-- 
'Shut this out. You have to tell someone! Something bad happened—' 

--NO! shut up. nothing happened, okay?—

'You're crying. You're bleeding and you're crying.' 

--doesn't matter. it doesn't matter anymore. nothing matters anymore. must get clean--

Quatre rubbed the cloth across his neck, where that wet mouth had tasted him. Again, and again, and again…it still wouldn't come clean. Again, and again, and again…

The edges of the cloth turned red with blood. Quatre's rough cleaning had scraped the tender skin raw and it stung every time he brushed the cloth over it. He kept on scrubbing anyway.

The blood beaded up and mingled with the water, coursing down his back to create strange patterns, circling around the drain. It still wasn't clean.

Exhausted, Quatre reached a hand up and turned the water off, the sudden silence thick in the small, hot room. He pressed his forehead to the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. He wished for a flood to swallow and drown him. He wished for a fire to burn and consume him. He wished…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Duo knocked on the door to Quatre's room, softly. It swung open with a creak, allowing Duo to look around the Arabian's room. Duo could hear the sounds of the shower from the bathroom. He saw steam creeping up from underneath the door crack.

"Quatre?" he called, walking into the room.

There was another sound, something that was partially muffled by the shower but Duo could still hear it, throbbing in his ears like the pulse of a heartbeat. It sounded like crying—no, it sounded like pain. Pain personified. It made Duo's insides clench painfully and he winced at the feeling. What could have happened to make Quatre sob like that?

"Quatre?" he called again, walking closer to the bathroom door. On the way he tripped over a heap of clothes and stumbled to the ground, cursing. Then he looked closer at the clothes. 

They were Quatre's. There was no mistaking the expensive pink and violet heap of fabric for anyone else's. But there was something wrong…the sleeve of the shirt was torn. The pants were stained with dirt. Something else caught Duo's eyes. A small red spot on the inner thigh of the pants…could it be blood?

The sound of running water abruptly stopped and silence filled the room. Duo knocked on the door.

"Quatre?"

There was no answer.

Duo pounded louder, fear making his voice come out stronger than he had intended.

"Quatre? Quatre! Quatre if you don't answer me I'm going to come in."

Silence was the only reply. Duo bit his lip, hesitant to carry out his threat. He didn't want to invade his friend's privacy, but what if something was really wrong with the blond Arab? What if he was hurt or…

"That's it Quatre, I'm comin' in!"

Duo grasped the doorknob and pushed the door open, releasing a cloud of steam to surround him and exit the bathroom, blinding him for an instant. When his vision cleared what he saw made him wish that it hadn't.

"Aw shit, Quatre…"

The blond boy looked small and pale, even compared to the whiteness of the porcelain he slumped against. His eyes were closed and clear, colourless tears streaked paths down his cheeks. The only splash of colour was the bright red blood that curled in rivulets down his back and the darker shade of that same fluid that covered his thighs.

He looked dead.

Instantly, anger flared up in Duo's eyes. Anger and fear. He hadn't been off the streets so long that he'd forgotten what this meant. Pushing back his feelings, Duo raced to his friend's side, kneeling down on the cold, wet tile and reaching out a hand to brush against the blonde's cheek.

"Quatre?"

The blonde's eyes snapped open, their blue depths radiating fear, his pupils dilated but unseeing.

"NO!" he screamed. "Don't touch me! Don't—" his head snapped back, nearly smacking against the wall as the boy twisted painfully, trying to cower as best he could in the confined space.

"Please," he sobbed, "please don't hurt me…" 

Duo felt the urge to sob as well, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He retracted his hand, not wanting to scare Quatre anymore then he already had.

"Quatre…" he said, trying to make his voice sound soothing and safe, "it's all right. It's just me, Duo. You remember me, doncha?"

The blond peeked his head out from where he had been sheltering it with his arms and looked uncertainly at Duo.

"D-Duo?"

"That right. It's me. Quatre…who did this to you?"

Quatre bit down on his lip, hard enough to break the skin. Blood pooled in his mouth and trickled slowly down his chin. Quatre brought a finger up to brush away the warm substance. He stared at his stained fingers, bewildered. Duo slowly eased the cloth from Quatre's fist and wiped his chin with it.

"Come on," he said, helping the blond Arabian to stand wobbly on his feet. "Let's get you place more comfortable. Then we'll talk."

Duo put an arm around Quatre's waist and the boy flinched, too weak to pull away. Duo noticed but he didn't comment on it, instead, leading the smaller boy to the bed where he sat him down on the cool white sheets. Blood dripped from his back onto the bed. Quatre watched the stain spread with dull eyes.

Duo went back into the bathroom and gathered up some bandages and alcohol swabs he could use to clean Quatre's wounds with. While he was there his gaze lingered on the faint reddish tinge circling the drain. He swallowed down his disgust and quickly got what he needed, wanting to return to Quatre's side as fast as he could. 

Quatre had not moved an inch from the position Duo had put him in. His eyes stared in a trance-like manner at a spot of blood that was rapidly soaking through the sheets. Duo sat down beside him, careful not to touch the boy.

"Quatre."

He waited until the boy's eyes focused on his.

"Quatre I want to clean your wounds. To do that I'm going to have to touch you. May I do that? I won't if it makes you feel uncomfortable."

Quatre considered this for a few seconds. Finally he nodded his consent, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see.

Duo started with the scraped flesh on Quatre's neck, getting out some gauze and pouring a bit of alcohol on it.

"This will hurt a bit," he warned before putting it on the raw skin.

Quatre didn't so much as blink.

After Duo had cleaned the wound and put a sterile bandage on it, he turned his attention to the now dried blood that covered his friend's rear and backside. Hesitating, he brought forth a wet washcloth and brushed it timidly against Quatre's leg. The boy jerked and let out a small whimper of fear that pierced Duo's heart as surely as a knife would have.

"Quatre," he said softly. "Do you want to clean this part up by yourself? It might be more comfortable for you."

Quatre's eyes blinked open and he nodded, taking the cloth from Duo's hand. Duo watched, wanting to make certain that Quatre wouldn't try to scrape the skin off like he did earlier with the washcloth, but he only wiped the blood off his thighs and rear, wincing when he rubbed the oversensitive flesh. Then he handed Duo back the washcloth and returned to staring at the sheets, clasping his hands in front of him like a child about to be scolded.

A breeze came through the window, rustling the curtains, and Quatre shivered.

Duo pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Quatre's shoulders, feeling the blonde's shaking through the fabric.

"Quatre, who did this to you?"

Quatre avoided Duo's gaze, glancing around the room nervously as if looking for a way to escape. 

"Quatre, I know."

This comment made Quatre's head snap around, his eyes full of fear and shame. Duo felt guilty for causing his friend pain but he knew that he couldn't let Quatre ignore this or it would eventually destroy him inside.

"I know that something bad happened to you and I need you to tell me who did it so we can bring them to justice."

Quatre just sat there, sullenly silent, ignoring Duo.

Duo sighed and ran a hand through his unruly bangs. 

"Do you want me to call Trowa and have him talk to—"

"NO!"

The sudden shriek startled Duo and he almost fell off the bed. Quatre's eyes were full of tears and his hands were clenched tightly into fists.

"You can't tell him! You have to promise me that you won't tell Trowa! He'd be so disgusted with me…I don't want him to see me! I don't want anyone to see me! Stop looking at me! STOP LOOKING AT ME!"

Quatre's cries were rapidly becoming hysterical and his nails dug into his flesh painfully, as if he were trying to rip himself apart. Duo grabbed his wrists and Quatre let out a moan of pain as Duo unintentionally pressed on the bruise. Duo held Quatre's hands until he stopped fighting him and slumped, exhausted and in tears, against Duo's chest.

"I didn't want to," he sobbed against Duo's shirt. "I didn't want to do it."

Duo's arms came down to hold Quatre gently. 'I know you didn't Q," he soothed. "It wasn't your fault. It was never you're fault."

"B-but I shouldn't have been in the store _alone_!" Quatre explained. "Oh why did I hide from the Maguanacs? I'm s-so stupid!"

"You're not stupid," Duo murmured ferociously into Quatre's ear. "Don't ever say that. You didn't do anything wrong. But which store did you say you were in? Quatre? Which store?"

Quatre was silent for a few moments. When he finally spoke his voice came out flat and mechanical.

"I was out on my own. I had hidden from the Maguanacs that usually escort me everywhere. I just wanted to be on my own for a while. I didn't think…" his voice wavered a bit, "I felt _safe_ in this town."

Duo nodded and held Quatre a bit tighter as he continued his story.

"I wanted to go shopping. My clothes had gotten dirty and ripped when I hid from the Maguanacs. I went downtown where the best stores are. I-I went into C-Cadmy's Clothing Store for Men…"

Tears started to fall down Quatre's cheeks again and he began to shake in a way that was not related to his nakedness and the cold. Duo murmured comforting words, encouraging Quatre onward as he filed away the name of the store for further reference.

After a few moments, Quatre continued. "I wanted to try on this suit. T-the clerk…"

Quatre's shaking got worse and Duo had an immediate desire to personally introduce this store clerk to the far reaches of hell. Nobody messed with Shinigami's friends. But Quatre wasn't finished yet.

"H-he…while I was getting changed he came in and…I couldn't move! I was so scared, I couldn't even defend myself! Oh Allah, I'm such a failure!"

"Don't," Duo said firmly. "Don't blame yourself for this. You are not responsible for this. This was not your fault."

"But I never said no!" the blond cried, his hands twisting in the fabric of Duo's shirt. "I never said no!"

"You didn't say yes, either," Duo answered. "Don't make excuses for him, Quatre. He knew exactly what he was doing and he took advantage of your fear. Don't surround yourself with 'what if's' Quatre. I'll say it again: This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. Understand?"

Quatre nodded and then burst into noisy tears. Duo held his friend close, rubbing his back soothingly. After a while, the exhausted Arabian fell asleep. Duo covered him with a few more blankets. 

"I'm so sorry Quatre," he whispered.

The blond frowned in his sleep and turned to the side, restlessly.

Duo found himself a chair and was about to settle himself down to stay by Quatre's bedside when he heard and insistent knocking at the door. Giving Quatre one last look, Duo headed down the stairs, his footsteps feeling heavy and weighted. 

When he got to the front door he turned the knob to open it…and found that he couldn't. Remembering all the locks and bolts that Quatre had slid into place, Duo carefully undid each one and unlatched the door. It opened with a jerk and an irate Heero Yuy stepped into the room.

"Why was the door locked?" he asked. Then he saw Duo's face, the grim set of his mouth and the anger and sadness and guilt in his eyes. "What happened?" Heero asked, dreading the worst.

Duo stared at him stonily for a few moments before he shook his head and answered.

"They've killed an angel."


	4. Precious Things

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and eventual 3x4/1x2 content. 

*

PRECIOUS THINGS

So I ran faster but it caught me here yes my

loyalties turned like my ankle in the seventh grade

running after Billy running after the rain these

precious things let them bleed let them wash away

these precious things let them break their hold over

me he said you're really an ugly girl but I like the

way you play and I died but I thanked him can you

believe that sick holding onto his picture dressing

up every day I wanna smash the faces of those

beautiful boys those christian boys so you can

make me cum that doesn't make you Jesus I

remember yes in my peach party dress no one

dared no one cared to tell me where the pretty girls

are those demigods with their nine inch nails

and little fascist panties

tucked inside the heart of every nice girl

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter 3 – Precious Things

It was dark. It was dark and he was alone inside this small space. How did he get here? Where was here? It seemed familiar and yet…

'Why can't I remember? What's going on?'

Silence. 

It was thick and heavy. Such terrible silence. It frightened him, but he couldn't explain why. Silence had never frightened him before. Especially those long, meaningful silences he shared with…

"Trowa?"

The name rang out harsh and loud although it was only whispered. There was no reply. With the darkness came cold. He shivered and reached to pull his sweater tighter only to find that he wasn't wearing clothes.

'W-why? What's going on? My clothes…'

Naked and vulnerable, he put a hand against the wall of his confined space. He couldn't be sure because of the darkness, but it seemed as though it had shrunk since he felt it last. He pushed against the walls, trying to find the exit. There wasn't one.

"H-help, help me!"

A chuckle sounded outside the room. It managed to sound sinister and gleeful at the same time.

"Please…somebody…"

Suddenly, a great pressure pushed down on his head and neck, forcing him to the ground roughly. He cried out in fear and pain.

"No please!"

The silence swallowed up his cries like water. The pressure on his head increased until his face pressed closely against the ground, thick carpet filling his mouth, suffocating him.

Pain exploded across his eyes. There was a deep throbbing within himself and something sticky and warm trailed down one of his thighs. 

A black booted foot swam into his vision. He looked up to see a familiar uni-banged boy frowning down on him, a look of disgust on his usually expressionless face.

"Trowa…help me," he gasped, reaching up a hand to the boy.

Trowa smacked it away, glaring with his deep green eyes.

"Don't touch me! You're disgusting and pathetic. You didn't even try to save yourself! What kind of a Gundam pilot are you? You deserved everything you got."

"T-Trowa…"

The banged boy turned his back and walked away. The pressure behind him increased slightly and a voice chuckled. "Now that he's gone, we can have some fun."

"..no…"

A hand reached down…

And Quatre screamed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Didn't he defend himself? Scream? ANYTHING?"

Duo shook his head and glared at Heero.

"Don't be stupid. He was probably too scared and shocked to act. He feels bad enough as it is. Don't you dare try and heap more guilt onto to him then he's already insisting on putting on himself! You know damn well that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this. For God's sake he was in a Clothing Store in the _right_ part of town! You'd think that in this day and age people would have learned to stop being fucking bastards…No, this wasn't Quatre's fault, that's for damn sure."

Heero bit his lip and ran a shaky hand through his hair, looking towards the top of the stairs.

"I know," he sighed. "I know it's not his fault. I'm just so…how could this happen? Why did this happen?"

Duo shook his head and placed a comforting hand on his lover's shoulder.

"Who the hell knows why terrible things happen to such kind, innocent people? It doesn't matter. All that matters now is helping Quatre."

Heero's eyes drifted once again to the top of the stairs.

"Is he…"

Duo followed his gaze.

"He's asleep now," he said quietly. "But he was pretty shaken up. We'll have to watch him closely. He was trying to scrub the skin off his neck with a washcloth when I found him."

"Shit," Heero cursed. "I'm going to kill the fucking bastard that did this to him."

"Hold on!" Duo said, putting out his hands in a stalling gesture. "I don't want to take any action without Quatre's consent. But you can use that laptop of yours to get some info on the clerk and look up the procedure for rape cases in this town in case Quatre wants to press charges."

Heero nodded and sat down in the living room, pulling out his laptop.

"Mission accepted."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trowa faltered in his triple spin. He managed to land all right and the crowd didn't seem to notice but the fact that he had stumbled puzzled Trowa. Frowning, he quickly bowed to the audience and went backstage where his sister was waiting to go on.

"Trowa," Catherine called, "what happened out there? You've never missed a simple jump like that before. What's wrong?"

Trowa shook his head, his frown deepening. There seemed to be a pain in his chest. He rubbed it absently.

"I don't know," he admitted. "All of a sudden I just felt…strange. Like someone was tearing me apart from the inside. Something's wrong. I have to go back."

Trowa turned to his sister, pleading with his eyes for her to understand. She sighed and then shrugged her shoulders.

"Go on then. I'll cover for you here. But Trowa…"

Trowa paused in his turn towards the exit.

Catherine offered him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Be careful, will ya?"

Trowa reached a hand up to trace the outline of Catherine's hair.

"I always am," he said softly.

Then he turned and walked out of the tent, leaving Catherine staring sadly after him.

'I know something's wrong,' Trowa though, moving a bit faster towards home. 'I just know it…'

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As soon as Wufei stepped into the house he knew that something was wrong. For one thing it was quiet. And Maxwell was home. These two things did not add up. Usually the braided menace came running as soon as Wufei opened the door to knock him over and demand that he take him for Chinese food, since Heero was glued to his laptop and wouldn't feed him and the whole world be damned if Duo was about to go one hour more without the sustenance he so desperately needed. But today there was nothing. 

Only eerie silence.

'I hope he hasn't fallen off Wing Zero while trying to paint it pink like he did last week,' Wufei thought as he made his way to the living room. 

"Maxwell?" he called.

"In here Wufei."

Yep. Something was definitely wrong. Duo _never_ called him by his right name. It was always Wu-man, Wu-wu, even Wu-bear, but never Wufei. He hoped that he hadn't had another fight with Heero. Their grudges could last for weeks on end due to the stubbornness of those two. 

Wufei entered the living room and nearly fell back with surprise. Duo was leaning over Heero's shoulder, one hand twisting around his braid in an uncomfortably tight grip, the other gripping Heero's back, white knuckled. Both were staring at the screen, eyes glued to the contents. Heero eyes contained the glitter of barely restrained rage and the hands that clicked the keys shook slightly.

"What's going on?" Wufei demanded. "Is that a new mission or something?"

Duo shook his head and kept staring at the screen. Heero didn't even respond.

Disturbed, Wufei was about to ask his question again when Duo burst out in an angry cry.

"Crap! This is all crap! Who the hell made up this bullshit anyway?! What the fuck are they trying to do, huh? What the FUCK do they expect him to do?"

"Shh…" Heero soothed, clicking the mouse a few more times. "Let's just see if there isn't a way around this before going overboard okay?"

"There isn't a way around it and you know that, Heero," Duo argued, getting up and waving his hands in the air emphatically. "It's this fucking _country—_"

"Excuse me," Wufei interrupted loudly, "but would someone mind telling me what the hell's going on?" 

"Quatre's was raped, that's what's going on," Duo yelled thoughtlessly. "And this _stupid_ country won't let you press charges for rape without _personally _confronting and accusing the bastard while a bunch of people take notes and decide if you're telling the truth or not! Of all the bloody ridiculous—"

"Would you calm down Duo? You're gonna wake up Quatre if you keep yelling like that."

Duo shut up but he looked decidedly unhappy about it and glared at Wufei as if it were all _his_ fault.

Wufei was in shock. Just the thought of someone so innocent like Quatre being defiled in that manner…it turned his stomach. His eyes narrowed in anger.

"Who did it?" he asked flatly, violence threatening beneath the surface of his usually calm voice.

"As near as I can find out," Heero said, typing a few short inquiries into his highly advanced search engine," the only person working at Cadmy's today was Kyle Whittenstaff…this guy."

A digital photograph of a tall man with dark eyes and neatly cut black hair appeared on the screen. Wufei felt his blood begin to boil.

"A store clerk did this?"

"In broad daylight," Duo nodded. "Fucked up isn't it? And the law won't let us incriminate him unless Quatre agrees to sit in a room with the bastard and accuse him personally while their "professionals" decided whether or not Quatre's making a false accusation or not."

Wufei saw red. 

"What the hell kind of justice is that?! How can they expect—"

"Exactly," Duo said darkly. "Quatre won't be able to go through that. Hell, _I_ wouldn't be able to go through _that_. The guy's gonna get off scott free."

"We'll just see about that," Wufei growled through his teeth and fingered the katana at his side. He rarely had a chance to use it, the only thing left from his clan that had survived the destruction…it was only to be used in honorable causes to correct great injustices. If this wasn't an injustice, Wufei didn't know what was.

His inner seethings were cut off by a strangled cry from upstairs. Heads turned towards the stairway.

"Quatre!" Duo said, already moving, Wufei and Heero following close behind.

"No!" Duo shook his head, turning around suddenly. "You stay down here. If all three of us rush in there he'll be scared shitless. He's already feeling vulnerable enough as it is. He doesn't need the rest of us compiling it."

Then he disappeared up the stairs where more panicked whimpering could be heard. Feeling useless, Wufei plopped himself down on the couch to wait for Maxwell to come back.

'Where's Barton?' he though suddenly. 'Quatre needs him more now then ever.'

"I've sent a few Maguanacs to search for Trowa," Heero said, startling Wufei out of his thoughts. "And I sent the rest of them back to the desert compound. Quatre's in no condition to deal with a lot of people right now."

Wufei nodded his agreement and his eyes wandered to the top of the stairs.

'He'd better show up soon…' 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Quatre. _Quatre wake up_." 

The blond boy awoke to Duo's worried whisper and a hesitant hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened wide and he shrank away from the hand.

"D-Duo?"

The braided boy smiled down at him. "Yeah, Q-man it's just me. That must have been some dream you were having. I heard you all the way downstairs."

Quatre sat up slowly, looking around him. He was wearing his blue cotton pajamas and lying in his own bed. He inspected the sheets quickly…and found no blood. He put a hand to his neck and found the skin smooth and whole.

"It was just a dream," he said wonderingly, looking up at Duo with a dazed expression.

"What was?" asked Duo.

Quatre shook a bit and then threw his arms around his friend. 

"I was so frightened!"

Duo's arms came up to embrace Quatre lightly.

"Hey now," he said. "It's all right. I'm here."

Quatre sniffed a bit and then looked at the empty space in the bed beside him.

"Duo, where's Trowa?"

"Oh you don't have to worry about him," said a voice from the doorway. "I already took care of it."

Quatre looked up into a pair of dark, dark eyes.

A twisted grin.

"You…"

Quatre tried to run but found himself tangled in the bedsheets.

"No!"

The looming dark figure in the doorway came closer, hands reaching out towards Quatre. He clawed at the sheets.

"Duo! Help me!"

The braided boy looked at Quatre, puzzled.

"What are you talking about Q-man?" 

The man leaned over and grabbed the back of Quatre's head, forcing it to the side. The bedsprings creaked.

'No…' 

Duo watched, smiling as the man's head came down.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt. Just a little pinch, and then sweet…"

"NOOOOOO!"


	5. Mother

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and eventual 3x4/1x2 content. 

*

MOTHER

Go go go go now

out of the nest it's time

go go go now

circus girl without a safety net

here here now don't cry

you raised your hand for the assignment

tuck those ribbons under your helmet

be a good soldier

first my left foot then my right behind the other

pantyhose running in the cold

mother the car is here

somebody leave the light on

green limousine for the redhead dancing dancing girl

and when I dance for him

somebody leave the light on

just in just in case I like the dancing

I can remember where I come from

I walked into your dream

and now I've forgotten how to dream my own dream

you are the clever one aren't you

brides in veils for you

we told you all of our secrets

all but one, and don't you even try

the phone has been disconnected

dripping with blood and with time and with your advice

poison me against the moon

mother the car is here

somebody leave the light on

black chariot for the redhead dancing dancing girl

he's gonna change my name

maybe you'll leave the light on

just in just in case I like the dancing

I can remember where I come from

I escape into your escape into

our very favorite fearscape

it's across the sky and across my heart and I

crossed my legs oh my god

first my left foot then my right behind the other

breadcrumbs lost under the snow

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter 4 – Mother

"NO!"

"Quatre…" Duo hovered uneasily above his friend, not wanting to shake or touch the traumatized boy for fear of causing more damage. But Quatre wasn't waking up, no matter how loudly he called, and Duo just couldn't stand there and listen to his anguished screams one moment longer. He made his decision quickly.

"It's okay Quatre," he said, placing a hand gently on the blonde's shoulder and shaking it slightly. "You're safe now. Wake up. You're dreaming Quatre. Wake up."

Quatre's eyes snapped open and he recoiled automatically from Duo's hand, curling into a fetal position. Duo withdrew his hand and backed away, slowly, wanting Quatre to feel comfortable and safe.

"It's okay," he said soothingly. "You were dreaming Quatre. You're safe now. Heero, Wufei, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Quatre sat up a bit, peeking out from the hands that he had brought up to protect his head. His eyes were fearful and hopeful at the same time.

"A dream?" he questioned. "Then it was all a dream?"

Duo sat down on the bed, moving slowly so Quatre wouldn't be frightened.

"Not everything was a dream, Quatre." Duo said, gently. "But…" he seemed to falter for a second, "we're all gonna help you through this, okay?"

Quatre looked down at his arm and saw the ugly bruise discolouring his pale skin. He reached up to his neck and felt the bandage under his fingertips. He felt the burning pain deep inside himself. And he knew that it wasn't a dream.

"How?" he whispered. "How are you going to help me? It's too late now. You can't save me now. It's done. I'm soiled. I'm—"

"Don't." Duo said, frowning. "You're not soiled. You're still the same Quatre I've always admired and counted on. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. How many times do I have to say it until you start to believe me?"

Quatre fell silent, avoiding Duo's gaze. They sat still for a few awkward moments before Duo stood up.

"Do you…want me to get you anything? Some food? A glass of water? Anything?" he asked.

Quatre shook his head. He didn't think he could eat ever again. All he wanted to do was forget.

"Well then…" Duo paused, nervous. "You should go back to sleep. You need to rest—"

Quatre's eyes widened in fear and he grabbed onto Duo's hand to keep him from walking out of the room.

"Please," he begged. "I don't want to be alone again. I don't want to close my eyes again. Please stay with me!" 

Duo's eyes softened and he sat down again, placing an arm around Quatre's shoulders, moving slowly so that the boy could stop him at any time.

"Of course I'll stay with you. But you really should rest Quatre. You can't stay awake forever. And you need to eat something soon too. You haven't had anything since breakfast."

"Later," Quatre promised. "I'll eat later. But I really can't now Duo."

Duo sighed and pulled some covers up over the two of them.

"All right," he said. "I won't force you Q-man. Try to sleep, please? I'm right here and nothing can harm you now so don't be afraid."

Quatre nodded but he kept his eyes open and glued to the ceiling. He couldn't risk having another nightmare. 

Duo held the tense boy carefully, wanting more than anything to erase the fear and hurt that he could see in his eyes. He thought about Heero and Wufei waiting downstairs for him to come back, knowing that they would be worried. But Duo wasn't about to leave Quatre when he was so afraid. The others would just have to wait.

"Duo?"

Duo turned his head to smile at Quatre.

"Yes?"

"Where's Trowa?"

Duo frowned.

"I don't really know. He said that he had to help Catherine at the circus with her new routine this morning but I didn't think he'd be this late coming home. But I'm sure that he'll be here soon."

Quatre chewed on his lower lip nervously.

"W-what do you think he'll say when he finds out?" he asked, a tremor in his voice.

"He'll tell you what I did," Duo said firmly. "He'll say that it's not your fault and that he loves you."

Quatre nodded, but he looked uncertain and his eyes did not close in relief. They lay there, together, Duo's arms holding Quatre comfortingly. For a while, the only sound in the room was the gentle sigh of Duo and Quatre's breathing. And while Duo's eyes closed in brief slumber…Quatre's never did.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"What do you think's happening up there?" Heero asked, looking up the stairs to where Quatre's room was located. Wufei just shrugged in reply, his gaze also wandering to the direction of those shrieks of terror.

The screams had been silenced long ago but Duo hadn't re-emerged yet and the remaining pilots were getting worried. Was Quatre okay?

Heero snorted to himself bitterly.

'Of course he's not okay. No one would be okay after something like that. I know that I'd probably kill myself if that happened to me.' 

Heero's stomach knotted at the thought of Quatre committing suicide and he clenched his fists savagely.

'No. He's stronger than that. He'll get through this. He has to…'

"Where is Barton?" Wufei wondered out loud. "He should be back by now. He should be here with Quatre. Why isn't he here?"

"Take it easy Wufei," Heero soothed. "He doesn't know. If he did he would be here in a second. He loves Quatre. You know that."

Wufei sighed and his shoulders drooped in weary acquisition. 

"I know. It just bothers me to be sitting around here doing _nothing_ when we could be out finding this guy and—" Wufei stopped his sentence and made a cutting motion across his throat.

Heero nodded and looked at Wufei.

"I feel the same way. But we can't do anything without Quatre's consent. We can't take away the only power he's got left."

Wufei slumped against the wall.

"You're right, Yuy. But I don't like it. I feel so useless."

"Why don't you go see if you can find Trowa," Heero offered. "And I'll search this guy Whittenstaff's records, see if he's done anything like this to anyone else."

Wufei nodded, eager for something constructive to do.

"Don't worry Quatre," he whispered before walking out the door. "I will make sure that you have justice."

Heero silently echoed his promise, sitting down once more at his laptop to take his vexation out on the keys. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre kept his eyes open. They burned and itched and felt so heavy that he longed to close them just for an instant…but images flashed across his vision that made him change his mind. He kept them open.

Duo breathed quietly next to him. His eyes were closed but he wasn't asleep. He wasn't asleep but his eyes were closed. Quatre kept his eyes open.

The ceiling was white and harsh against his gaze. There were tiny holes in its surface. Quatre counted them. White blinding white and the little black holes that were quickly blurring in his vision, melting together, forming a black hole, a vortex, a space of nothing inside himself, outside himself, all around blackness, whiteness, blinding…

Quatre kept his eyes open.

Tears formed and fell, salty droplets of water, soaking him, soaking the pillow, washing away everything, leaving him with nothing except this burning emptiness. He was stone, cold stone…but stone didn't hurt like this, stone didn't cry like this, stone didn't burn inside like this. He was ice, melting ice, and soon there would be nothing left of him but saltwater crystal. He was dead but the dead didn't breathe or cry or burn so he must be…

He was so tired.

Quatre kept his eyes open.

There was a smell. Dried blood and soap. Sandalwood and antiseptic. And fear. He could smell it, like the sex and violence. It surrounded and suffocated. It poured into him and around him, making him dizzy. It choked him. It took his breath.

Quatre kept his eyes open.

And there was pain, but it wouldn't confine itself to his body. It echoed around the room with its loud colour. It leaked out with his tears. It carved slices from his soul, slowly and carefully, almost clinical. It became him. Or he became pain. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered anyway. Oh but it did, it did…

Quatre kept his eyes open

And the light was on but it was still dark. Or maybe it was he that was dark. Dark golden boy, where are your dreams now? Where is your purity now? Silly boy, there is no snow in the Sahara. There is no release for you. There is no God, really. Where was Allah when you lay broken? Where is Allah while you lie crying? Where is he? Where?

Quatre kept his eyes open.

And still he could not see. Darkness swam before his eyes and a grin…and how, how could a Cheshire cat smile so? And the teeth were sharp and they dripped blood and now the darkness was gone and everything was red, red…

Quatre kept his eyes open.

But in his mind they were closed. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Trowa walked quickly through the streets, dodging the throngs of people surrounding him. Inside a familiar fear gnawed at him and he couldn't explain it. He only knew that he had to get back to Quatre before…

/Before what?/ 

Before…before something…something bad…

It started to rain, hard cool droplets stinging bare flesh. Trowa moved on, running now, a sense of urgency making his muscles scream for a faster pace, his heart already choosing the tempo. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the crowds thinned out but still Trowa ran on. Church bells sounded, lonely and echoing all around and Trowa ran, he ran…

/Before, before, before…/ 

And the bells rang a requiem for ghost souls, happy phantoms with bloody smiles, butterfly spirits, but their wings are torn all torn, and the thunder was coming closer and closer and the wind took his feet, took his breath, took his fear and Trowa ran.

But he didn't run fast enough.


	6. Crucify

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and eventual 3x4/1x2 content.

*

CRUCIFY

Every finger in the room is pointing at me I wanna

spit in their faces then I get afraid of what that could

bring I got a bowling ball in my stomach I got a

desert in my mouth figures that my courage would

choose to sell out now I've been looking for a savior

in these dirty streets looking for a savior beneath

these dirty sheets I've been raising up my hands

drive another nail in just what god needs one more

victim why do we crucify ourselves every day I

crucify myself nothing I do is good enough for you

crucify myself every day and my heart is sick of

being in chains got a kick for a dog beggin' for love I

gotta have my suffering so that I can have my cross

I know a cat named Easter he says will you ever

learn you're just an empty cage girl if you kill the

bird I've been looking for a savior in these dirty

streets looking for a savior beneath these dirty

sheets I've been raising up my hands drive another

nail in got enough guilt to start my own religion

please be 

save me 

I cry

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 5 - Crucify

Duo lay beside Quatre and listened to the blond Arab's unsteady breathing. He knew the boy was not asleep, would not sleep until his body forced him to out of sheer exhaustion. He felt the silent tears that slowly soaked the sheets at his side and wanted to cry himself. But Duo did not cry. He hadn't cried since the day Solo had died, turning cold inside the circle of his arms…

Duo shivered and pulled the covers up higher, closing his eyes to give Quatre a sense of privacy in his sorrow. Such pain was manifest there. Such pain that had no relief of comfort in sight. So what if Quatre was still alive? Could this really be called living? 

So what if they managed to get the guy put away…or better, kill the bastard? Did that make it all better? Take Quatre's pain away? Make it so it never happened?

Duo sighed and rubbed Quatre's back soothingly, pausing when he felt the boy tense under his touch.

Nothing could make this better except time. Quatre was strong. He would pull through eventually. Duo knew this but it didn't make it any easier to watch his suffering.

'I'm so sorry Quat. I'm sorry that I couldn't spare you this. I'm sorry I couldn't help you when you needed it. I couldn't help Solo when he needed it either. He was always the one who got me out of scrapes. I really am useless, just sitting around and being a nuisance all the time. I knew you wanted to go out today. I should have offered to go with you. I should have been there. I should have, would have, could have…'

Behind Duo's closed lids an image flashed, a memory lurking just below the surface. He flinched and opened his eyes but it didn't go away. Eventually he closed his eyes again, letting the memory come. He knew for a fact that it would not leave him alone now.

'Solo…'
__

~ flashback ~

"Run faster Min!"

Feet pounded on pavement as two small figures ran through the dirty back roads of L2. They were young, the girl only five years old, the boy barely more than seven. Their small legs carried them through the ally-ways in a hasty shuffle that would have been comical if not for the danger that laced their actions. They didn't bother calling out for help. They knew that no one would oblige. The streets were hardly abandoned but the people who were there didn't look too interested in helping some ratty street-kids and the general attitude on L2 was not to get involved in things that didn't concern you. The children were on their own.

"Ow!"

The boy paused in his flight to turn and look back at the tiny girl, who was now sprawled on the ground, her ankle twisted painfully beneath her. The boy pushed his long, chestnut coloured hair out of the way and went over to help her up. She winced when he put her on her feet but didn't complain when he urged her to run again. She knew that there was no time to indulge in injury.

With the girl leaning heavily on the boy, the two continued their race through the streets, though not as fast as before. Behind them they could hear footsteps and vicious catcalls. They were close. Very close. 

__

'We've gotta get away!' the boy thought frantically. _'I should have run for the shelter instead of out here in the middle of nowhere.'_

But he knew that he couldn't risk leading them back to the others and Solo.

__

'Solo…where are you?'

"Look!"

The boy interrupted his musings to look around himself and saw what the girl saw. A dead end. A large pile of trash, dumped by the city officials conveniently blocked the ally-way. They were trapped.

"We'll have to climb over it."

"I can't!" the girl wailed, terrified.

The boy set her down and took a look at her ankle, noting the swelling that was already taking place.

She was right. There was no way that she would be able to climb that structure.

__

'Think, think!'

"There!" the boy pointed to a small hole in the rubble. "We can climb through there. It's not high up. You can make it Min c'mon, we can't stay here or they'll catch us."

The girl hesitated and looked back the way they came. In the distance they could hear the sounds of pursuit, feet pounding on pavement. She nodded.

"I'll help you."

The boy took her arm and helped her to her feet once more, supporting her on his side. They were almost to the hole when a voice exclaimed behind them, "There they are! They're trying to get away!"

Quickly, the boy shoved the girl through the hole, ignoring her cry of pain. He tried to follow but a strong hand had grabbed a section of his hair and it yanked back _hard_. Yelping, the boy spun around, clawing and scratching like a wild animal cornered. Finding the hand with his teeth, he bit down until he could taste blood. Whoever was holding him let go, screaming, and he disappeared through the hole, chestnut mane trailing after him. 

"Quickly!" the boy motioned to the girl who was clutching him, sobbing.

"I thought they had you," she cried, burying her face in his chest.

"We don't have time for this," the boy growled as he caught up the girl in his arms and made his way down the ally. Behind him he could hear the thugs struggling to get through the hole that had been perfect for the children but far too tiny for a grown man. Cans and bottles spun around them, glass breaking as they pushed and shoved at the rubble.

The children fled down the street, only to be confronted with yet another dead end. 

"Shit!"

The boy looked around, hoping to see a window, a fire escape…anything to get them out of this mess.

"There you are munchkins."

The boy spun around to find two men, dirty and reeking of alcohol, staring down on him. He set the girl down on her feet and stood in front of her protectively.

"Leave us alone!" he shouted hopelessly.

The closest man chuckled and kneeled down in front of him, reaching out a hand to trace the boy's cheek. The boy stood still, wanting to lash out but fearing for his companion's safety.

"Leave you alone?" the man drawled. "Now why would I want to do that? I've got an itch boy. And I need to scratch it real bad. You'll do just fine."

The other man stepped forward, his greasy hair hanging limp in his face.

"He is kinda pretty. Just look at those eyes, Hank. I ain't never seen purple eyes before. And that hair…he's almost like a girl." The greasy man leered at him and reached out to pinch his arm but the other man smacked his hand away.

"He's mine first. You go play with the little girl. You like them better anyways." The man ordered, not taking his eyes off the boy.

The greasy man pouted but he left the boy alone and turned his attention to the sobbing figure behind him.

"She's pretty too. C'mere little one. Want to sit in my lap pretty thing? If you're real good I'll give you some candy…" he reached out and grabbed her arm harshly. Shrieking, the girl was pulled into his embrace, her small fists having no effect on the big man.

The boy saw red. "Get your damn hands off of her!" he said, turning on the greasy man. But before he could do anything, the other man had his arms wrapped around his waist, pinning his arms to the side and pushing him to the ground. The boy struggled uselessly against the huge bulk that had settled itself on his back.

"Min!"

The girl screamed in the background, her cries piercing the boy's ears painfully. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the heavy metallic sound of a zipper being pulled down and a voice saying, "You're going to be so tight…"

Darkness invaded the boy's vision and he was just about to pass out when he heard another voice shout, "Stop."

The weight left his back but his arms were still pinned to his sides so he couldn't escape. His face twisted around on the pavement until he finally caught a glimpse of the person who had shouted. 

He was young. Only thirteen by his looks. His hair was a rich golden colour and it would have shone brilliantly in the sun had it not been coated with a thick coat of dirt. His face and body was lean, evidence of starvation, and his golden-amber eyes glinted dangerously, as if he had seen horrors weaker men would have broken at.

"Solo!"

The greasy man paused in his stripping of the girl's clothing to look at the new arrival. "Go away kid, we're busy."

"You don't want to do this," the golden-haired boy said, stepping closer to the man who held the boy. He seemed amused by that comment.

"I don't? Why not pip-squeak."

"Because," Solo said, causally tossing his head, "its too much trouble for a quick lay. The girl's much too small. You won't get much out of her. Not enough to satisfy a man of your needs. And the boy will fight back. And he's strong enough to get in a few good hits. He's already drawn blood."

The man looked down at where the kid hand bitten him, blood seeping from the wound onto the ground. He looked back at Solo.

"That may be true but I want a fuck and they'll provide some entertainment, at least for a little while before we've broken our toys." The man grinned, sliding a meaty hand across the boy's buttocks. The boy squirmed, disgusted and trying not to vomit at the sick feeling inside his stomach.

Solo stepped closer still, ignoring the boy who called out to him pleadingly.

"Take me instead. I can give you guys a lot more pleasure then these two. They'd be useless after one fuck and I'm sure you don't play nicely with your "toys". I can take a lot more. I'd last you a couple hours at least. And I won't charge you for my services. All I want is for you to let them go freely. Deal?"

The man considered the golden-haired boy's words, eyeing his emaciated body lustfully.

"Maybe…"

The greasy man spoke up. "But Hank, he's only one and we got two here. I don't wanna wait my turn."

"It'd be well worth the wait," Solo said, letting his thin coat drift open to display the white skin of his stomach. "And wouldn't you rather have someone willing?"

"And all you want is for us to let the kids go?"

"Hank, purple eyes!"

"Shaddup, Marty. This kid's got pretty eyes too. Golden. And he won't give us no trouble like these others. All right kid, you got yourself a deal. We'll let these munchkins go in exchange for you."

The man let go of the boy and took a step towards Solo. Solo's eyes flicked towards the greasy man and his captive.

"And the girl?"

"We'll let her go once you've proved we can trust you. I don't want no tricks."

"I promised that I would submit willingly. I may run and I may hide but I never lie." Solo said, raising his voice. "Let her go now or the deal's off."

The man thought for a few moments, observing the resolve on the golden-haired boy's face. Then he seemed to come to a decision.

"Let her go Marty."

"But Hank—"

"I said let her go. We've got what we wanted. He's not going anywhere. He's got no where to go."

The greasy man reluctantly pushed the girl away from him who slid to the ground with a cry of pain, her skirt around her knees. The boy rushed to her side, catching her up in his arms protectively.

"Min! Are you okay?"

The girl nodded, slowly, tears drying on her face as she pulled her skirt up with shaking hands. The boy turned to Solo.

"Solo…"

"Go back to the shelter. Tell the kids that I'll be back later."

The boy's violet eyes were wide with fear and understanding. He was torn between wanting to run away and wanting to stay and help his friend.

"But Solo—"

"GO!" Solo's voice grew harsh and he glared at the children. "I'll be fine. Just leave me. I've made my choice."

"That's right little boy," the greasy man chuckled. "You just run along now before we change our minds. We'll take good care of him don't you worry."

"No…" the boy whispered, horror stricken. "NO!"

"Dammit kid I'm not going to tell you again!" Solo's voice rose and then softened, almost tenderly. "Go on kid. I'll be fine, really. You need to take Min back to the others. She needs you now, okay?"

The boy bit his lip hesitantly and looked down at the terrified, injured child in his arms. He nodded. 

Solo smiled. "That a boy. You're a great kid. I'll see ya soon, kay?"

The boy turned his back uncertainly, making his way slowly to the hole in the rubble. He helped the girl through and then took one last look at the golden-haired boy who stood so proudly, even now. He saw the man take his big meaty hand and slid it down Solo's chest into the waistband of his pants. He saw the dead look in his friend's eyes as he was pushed roughly to the ground. And then he turned away, sliding out through the passage, not bearing to look anymore. 

'Solo…why?'

__

~flashback~

Duo shook his head, trying to clear the last traces of that image from his mind. He was aware of Quatre breathing beside him, taking comfort in the fact that the blonde's breathing had evened out even though he was still not asleep.

'I'm about as much help to him as I was to Solo.'

Solo had survived that experience. In fact he had come back the next day, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. But Duo saw the belt marks on his back, the bruises on his arms and legs. He saw the nail marks on his chest and stomach and noticed the odd way he walked as if it hurt to move. And every so often he caught Solo staring off into space with those awful dead eyes. But when he had attempted to talk to him about the incident, Solo had always brushed him off, telling him to forget about it. Duo never got to say thank you. Solo had died from the plague about two weeks after the incident. The virus had taken him faster than anyone else and a later blood analysis had told him the reason why: Solo had contracted AIDS before he died.

'Everyone I care about ends up dying. Everyone I care about ends up in pain because I'm too weak to help them. I'm so sorry Quatre. I know it doesn't help to say it but I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…'

Warm, salty streaks of moisture trailed down Duo's cheeks and it took him a moment to figure out what they were.

'Tears…' 


	7. Leather

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content.

*

LEATHER

Look I'm standing naked before you

don't you want more than my sex

I can scream as loud as your last one

but I can't claim innocence

oh god could it be the weather

oh god why am I here

if love isn't forever and it's not the weather

hand me my leather

I could just pretend that you love me

the night would lose all sense of fear

but why do I need you to love me

when you can't hold what I hold dear

I almost ran over an angel he had a nice big fat cigar

"in a sense" he said "you're alone here

so if you jump you best jump far"

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 6 - Leather

Heero closed the laptop with a frustrated sigh. He could find no way around the absurd law the prohibited Quatre to accuse his assailant without confronting him personally and he could find no additional proof that this Kyle Whittenstaff had ever been convicted of any crime, rape or otherwise. Besides, it was well past six o'clock and neither Quatre nor Duo had had anything to eat since this morning. He'd bring them a tray…

Heero wandered out to the kitchen, trying to find something suitable for Quatre. He'd doubted that the blond would be able to bring himself to eat anything solid. Some soup maybe…

As he fitted the can into the can opener, something in the blatant normality of the action caused him to pause, chest aching with guilt. 

How dare anything be normal! How dare the earth continue to turn, when a tortured soul wasted away just up the stairs! How dare there be no effect on the rest of the world.

Heero looked out the window where the rain was coming down in sheets and nodded is head at the appropriateness. At least the heavens seemed to weep as well.

Then he berated himself for the stupidity of that thought. What did it matter if it rained? Did that somehow magically erase the past? And anyway, Wufei was out in the downpour that instant searching for Trowa.

Heero took the opened can and dumped the soup into a bowl, placing it in the microwave for a few minutes. He didn't want to waste time with the stove and didn't really trust himself around heating elements at that moment anyway.

'I hope Wufei finds Trowa soon,' Heero thought with more than a hint of worry. While he would do anything he could to comfort the blond empath who had always comforted him in the past, he knew that only Trowa could give him the kind of reassurance he needed.

Staring blankly at the empty soup can, Heero suddenly crushed it beneath his fingers, watching the sharp tin bite into his palm. He observed the bright red blood that flowed from the jagged cut and smiled at the slight pain. This was something he could understand. This was something he could explain, the tangy scent of his own blood and the familiar burning along the torn skin. His own pain he could deal with…he was trained to fix it, and if for some reason he couldn't, ignore it until it faded into the background. He could take risks with his life because he was expendable. He could let others break and abuse his body because he only used it for mission objectives anyway. Once his mission was over there would no longer be any need for Heero Yuy. So long as he stayed alive long enough to complete the mission, who cared whether his body or mind stayed intact or not?

Of course…that view had started to change once Duo had come into the picture.

Heero sighed and released the can, taking the first-aid kit down off the wall by the fridge and selecting a few gauze pads from the pile. Careful not to get blood all over the counter, Heero proceeded to bandage himself up, wrapping the white gauze around and around his palm, tighter and tighter and tighter.

Duo seemed to care whether or not Heero survived past the mission. He was the only one…

'No. That's not true. The others care too…'

Yes. Trowa, Quatre, and even Wufei all seemed to have an interest in his survival. But with Duo it was more…desperate. It seemed to hurt Duo when Heero got hurt, like some kind of physical link between the two of them. And it pained Duo when Heero tried to self-destruct, mission or no mission. Duo had explained to Heero that that's what love was. 

Fine. Heero would try not to act like his fate didn't matter as long as Duo insisted on loving him although he couldn't understand why. It wasn't like he had any redeeming qualities about him. A murderer, a terrorist, a psychopath…not the sort of thing one would look for in a life partner. But if Duo was happy then he wouldn't question it. Above all else, Heero wanted Duo to be happy. He supposed that that was love as well although he couldn't be sure. His training hadn't allowed for such luxuries as love.

The microwave beeped insistently and Heero took the steaming hot bowl of soup from the plate and placed it carefully on the tray. He then fixed some sandwiches for Duo, making certain to use lots of mustard and mayonnaise on each piece of bread. Duo loved mayonnaise…

On a whim, Heero took a tea cup from the cupboard and pour some hot water from the kettle which had been left on all afternoon for when Quatre got back from his walk. The water was still hot and Heero took a tea bag from the box and dunked it in, watching the water cloud from it's clear white to a rich brassy red.

'Quatre likes tea. Maybe this will make him feel better…'

Heero cursed himself for his naïve hopes. Tea wasn't going to make Quatre feel better. Nothing he could do would make Quatre feel better. This was beyond his control and it rankled. Here was a member of his team suffering and he could do nothing to ease his pain, couldn't even kill the source of it. This was one instant where the Perfect Soldier would be of no use.

'Not-so-Perfect Soldier,' his mind taunted. 'Let's face it, you couldn't even protect your comrade when he needed it the most. Just what kind of a leader are you?'

"I never asked to be the leader," Heero said out loud, his flat monotone masking the emotion behind the words. "I never wanted to be looked up to."

'Well isn't that just too bad,' he mocked himself. 'We don't always get what we want.'

"Enough!" Heero shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Quatre is what's important now."

And with that statement, Heero took the tray and balanced it in his hands, walking with deliberate slowness up the stairs. When he got to Quatre's room he silently eased the door open with his foot and peeked in. What he saw startled him greatly.

Quatre lay on one side of the bed, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above him, his hands clenched into the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. He seemed oblivious to the world around him, trapped in his own personal hell. Duo was beside him, his face towards Heero although his eyes were shut tight. Tears leaked out of the sides of his closed lids and the traveled slowly down his cheeks to pool on the pillow under his head. His hand rubbed Quatre's back in a calm, soothing gesture, betraying nothing of the turmoil evident on his face.

For a moment, Heero was at a loss. He had never seen the American cry, even when he had begged Heero not to self-destruct again. He knew that Duo would be embarrassed if he knew that Heero had caught him weeping and the last thing he wanted to do was cause Duo more discomfort.

'He'll tell me when he's ready,' Heero told himself firmly, pushing the door softly shut again and walking as ways back down the stairs. Counting to ten, he moved back up towards Quatre's room, making considerably more noise then he had before, letting Duo know he was coming. When he opened the door once more, the only evidence that Duo had been crying was the slight redness in his eyes. When he saw Heero with the tray he grinned widely and sat up.

"Look Quat-man! Heero brought us something to eat! Isn't that great? I'm starved!" Duo said, trying to get the small Arabian next to him to stop staring at the ceiling.

And it worked…for a bit. Quatre turned his head to observe the steaming bowl of soup and then resumed his study of the ceiling.

"You go ahead. I'm not hungry," he stated flatly. 

Duo and Heero exchanged worried looks.

"C'mon Quatre," Duo wheedled as Heero put the tray down on the end table carefully. "You promised me you'd eat later and this is later. Don't let this opportunity to try Hee-chan's primo cooking go by! Trust me, it'll never happen again."

Quatre didn't respond to Duo's gentle prodding. Instead he turned his face to the wall, away from Duo and the tray.

"No."

Duo's shoulders slumped a little and he turned helplessly to Heero who shrugged in return. There was silence for a few moments while Duo thought of a way to get Quatre to eat.

"Ano…Heero…I'll suppose you'll have to eat this yourself. I'm not hungry either," Duo claimed, putting the sandwich he had grabbed back on the plate.

Heero blinked in confusion.

"But…you just said you were starving…"

"If Quatre isn't going to eat then I'm not going to eat either. You can dump the soup if you want. Or maybe Wufei would like it. But I'm not taking one bite unless Quatre takes one too," Duo exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. 

Heero frowned, looking at his lover's thin limbs and skinny frame. Duo couldn't afford to miss too many meals the way his system burned up calories. The braided pilot could usually pack away five or six meals a day without gaining an ounce. It wasn't like him to refuse food. He tried reasoning with him.

"Duo you haven't had anything to eat since this morning and that was only some toast. I know for a fact that you missed dinner last night because of a mission and that for the past couple of weeks your diet has consisted of chips and fast food burgers. You need to eat something nutritious or you'll get sick," Heero protested.

"Then I'll get sick," Duo retorted, laying back down on the bed next to Quatre.

Heero bit his lip in aggravation and was just about to demand that Duo eat something when he noticed Quatre's face. The blond may not have turned around but he was listening to every word they said and every so often his shoulder blades would quiver, like he was fighting back an impulse. Heero glanced at Duo's pleading face and suddenly understood what he was trying to do. Quatre would not eat for himself…but he might eat if it meant Duo's health.

"Mmm…" Duo commented under his breath, watching Quatre's face. "That sure smells good though…"

Quatre drew in a shaky breath. 

One heartbeat… 

Two…

"Fine!" he cried out, sitting up so abruptly he almost knocked the tray from the table. "Fine! You win! I'll eat, okay? Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?"

Duo looked at him in silent reproach; his indigo eyes a mirror of his own sadness. Quatre's face crumpled and he brought his hands up to his mouth to muffle the sobs that started to force their way out through his lips.

"I'm…s-sorry Duo I didn't m-mean to, really…"

"Shhh," Duo murmured, gathering the distraught boy into his arms and rocking back and forth slowly. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay, you'll see. I know it seems impossible now but one day all this will just fade into a bad memory and there'll be times when you'll be able to forget, if only for an instant."

"I wanna forget _now_!" Quatre sobbed, clutching Duo closer, burying his face in the smooth shoulder.

"I know," Duo whispered, pain evident on his face. "I know…"

Heero felt awkward, just standing there while his lover tried to comfort his hurt and confused friend. 

'Do something,' his mind urged.

--Like what? There's not exactly something I can put a bullet through at the moment that will make it all better.--

'Idiot. Use your heart, not your head for once.'

--My heart?--

Heero thought for a moment, then he went over to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it cautiously, balancing his weight on his knees. After only a second's hesitation, he slipped his arms around Quatre and grasped Duo's shoulder's behind him, sandwiching Quatre in the middle.

Surprised at this impromptu embrace, Quatre could only sniffle as Heero gently pressed his forehead to Quatre's back.

"No matter what," he whispered, "We're all here for you Quatre if you need us."

His sobs calming to hiccups, Quatre offered a tremulous smile to Heero and his grip on Duo relaxed. Over Quatre's head, Duo sent Heero a warm smiled and Heero felt a jolt of happiness as he realized that, for once in his life, he had done the right thing. 

'We'll get through this,' Heero resolved, 'because we have to.'

The embrace continued in silence until Duo squirmed free and turned his attention back to the tray of food abandoned on the end table.

"Now that that's settled," he crowed, handing the spoon to Quatre, "Let's eat!"

Quatre held the spoon tentatively in his hand, as if it were a wild animal that might bite, and looked at Duo who held a sandwich to his lips. Duo was just holding the sandwich, waiting until Quatre had eaten his first spoonful before he would allow himself to bite. Quatre turned to Heero who nodded encouragingly. He dipped the spoon in the soup and brought it to his lips, his hand trembling only slightly. Putting the spoon carefully in his mouth, Quatre swallowed the hot liquid, wincing as it traveled down his raw throat. Duo smiled and took a bite of his sandwich. 

It wasn't much…but it was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wufei sped down the wet streets, taking no notice of the rain-slicked road gliding dangerously under the tread of his motorcycle. He only knew one thing. He had to find Barton and he had to find him _now_.

"Faster…faster…" Wufei whispered, his words torn from his mouth and lost in the shudder roar of the wind. Storm clouds gathered above him and every so often a brief illumination of lightning would flash across the sky, followed quickly by the distant rumble of thunder.

In the gloomy darkness, Wufei could just make out a damp figure running up the street. As he came closer he recognized a familiar form with a limp and wet shock of brown hair covering the right half of his face.

'Barton…' 

"Barton!" Wufei called out loud, squeezing the brakes and sliding the motorcycle to a stop just in front of the sodden boy.

"Wufei?" Trowa questioned, looking surprised and more than a little worried. "What are you doing here?"

Wufei kicked the stand down and leaped off the bike, coming to stand before Trowa.

"You must come back to the house now," he stated, grabbing Trowa's shirt in his haste. The banged boy looked even more worried.

'Quatre…'

"Why?" he asked stubbornly, not wanting his premonition to be true.

'Please let him be okay. Please please please.'

Wufei hesitated, wondering if he should let Quatre be the one to tell him. But Quatre would hardly be in any shape to recount his abuse and besides, it would be faster if he just told Trowa now.

"Quatre was raped by a clerk at a clothing store today. He's not injured too badly physically but…"

Trowa's whole world froze in place. Wufei was still talking but his mind couldn't register what was being said. His head just kept on replaying those first few words…

'Quatre was raped. Quatre was…raped, oh my God. This can't be real. This can't be…'

"Barton!" Wufei shook his arm sharply. "We have no time for this! You must return with me now!"

"I can't," Trowa said, his eyes wide and panicked.

Wufei stared back incredulously.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I-I can't go back. I can't face him…"

"Why not?"

"I just can't!"

Wufei's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You bastard," he hissed. "Quatre needs you now and you're just going to run away? You _coward_. I thought you loved him."

"I do!" Trowa wailed, his mouth twisting in sudden pain.

"Then go to him!" Wufei ordered, venom in his voice.

"I…I just can't! You don't understand…"

Wufei looked at Trowa with disgust and shook his head.

"You're right. I don't understand. I don't understand how you can claim to love someone and then just abandon them when they need you the most. You make me sick Barton."

"It's not like that," Trowa protested, rain flowing down the hollows of his cheeks like tears.

"Then tell me what it's like. Tell me that you'll come back with me now," Wufei said, bringing his other hand up to grasp Trowa's shoulder.

Trowa looked at him for a moment with dead green eyes. Then he twisted in Wufei's grasp.

"NO!" he shouted. "I CAN'T. Let GO OF ME!"

Getting one hand loose, Trowa swung his fist and caught Wufei hard on the cheek, causing him to release the unibanged pilot in shock and hurt.

Wufei staggered back, one hand pressed to his burning cheek. He looked at Trowa, mystified.

Trowa gasped when he saw what he had done, putting a hand out towards Wufei.

"Wufei! Oh God…I'm sorry, I…"

Drawing back reflexively, Wufei put a good distance between himself and Trowa. Seeing this, Trowa gave a helpless groan and fled off into the night, feet pounding on the wet pavement.

Watching him go, Wufei could only stare in bewildered hurt, only one thought running through his head.

'How the hell am I supposed to tell Quatre?'


	8. Silent All These Years

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content. Religious views, not necessarily those of the author. 

*

SILENT ALL THESE YEARS

Excuse me but can I be you for a while my dog

won't bite if you sit real still I got the anti-Christ in

the kitchen yellin' at me again yeah I can hear that

been saved again by the garbage truck I got

something to say you know but nothing comes yes

I know what you think of me you never shut-up yeah

I can hear that but what if I'm a mermaid in these

jeans of his with her name still on it hey but I don't

care cause sometimes I said sometimes I hear my

voice and it's been here silent all these years so

you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts

what's so amazing about really deep thoughts boy

you best pray that I bleed real soon how's that

thought for you my scream got lost in a paper cup

you think there's a heaven where some screams

have gone I got 25 bucks and a cracker do you

think it's enough to get us there years go by will I

still be waiting for somebody else to understand

years go by if I'm stripped of my beauty and the

orange clouds raining in my head years go by will I

choke on my tears till finally there is nothing left

one more casualty you know we're too easy easy

easy well I love the way we communicate your eyes

focus on my funny lip shape let's see what you

think of me now but baby don't look up the sky is

falling your mother shows up in a nasty dress it's

your turn now to stand where I stand everybody

lookin' at you here take hold of my hand

yeah I can hear them but what if I'm a mermaid in these

jeans of his with her name still on it hey but I don't

care cause sometimes I said sometimes I hear my

voice and it's been here I've been here…

silent all these years

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter 7 – Silent All These Years 

Trowa ran, faster and faster, his feet skidding on the slick pavement. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just knew that he had to get away, had to flee before him mind took over, before his memories took over. His vision was blurred. Something warm and salty stung his eyes.

'Tears. I don't deserve to cry. I have no right to feel his pain.' 

"Not Quatre, never Quatre. This couldn't happen. It's not supposed to happen, not to him," Trowa murmured as he ran, his words lost to the wind and rain.

'My fault. I've done this somehow. I couldn't protect him. This is my fault.'

"It wasn't supposed to happen to him. He's so pure and innocent. Not like me. Quatre's not evil like me. Why should he be punished? It must have been something I did. Like before, with Midii…"

Trowa pushed down the frantic sob that was working its way up his throat. It was now very dark and the soft lamplight did nothing to block the shadows creeping up on the running pilot. Empty. The streets were so empty. There were no sounds save the constant drumming of the rain and Trowa took in the silence, filled himself with it. He was safe in the absence of sound. It was only the screams he feared, those strange wrenching sounds he heard only in his darkest dreams when Quatre was not there to soothe his sleep. But it was never him who cried out, it was always another who screamed, horrible choking cries. 

"No! Don't…I can't do this again."

The night ignored Trowa's pleas. The boy halted his frantic run and wrapped his arms around himself, as thought to keep his insides from bursting out. His eyes darted nervously from side to side. The rain soaked into his shirt, rolling in wet beads off his skin, dripping and mixing with the moisture already present in his eyes. 

Safety. He needed to find a safe place.

The church on the corner beckoned, it's windows lit with small candles on the sill, giving off a comforting glow. Trowa shivered and walked towards it's light, struggling briefly with the large oak doors before falling inside with a grateful sigh.

The church was silent and empty. Statues of angels and saints lined the long rows of pews. The alter was lit from behind by hundreds of tiny candles in a large stained-glass window and red velvet tapestries hung from the ceiling, depicting various scenes from the Bible. Trowa approached a statue of a crying woman with a cherub on her shoulder and placed a hand on the cool surface of the marble. He shivered once more and sunk to the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest in a fetal position. 

"Please…" he whispered, "leave me alone. I'll be good, I swear it."

Screaming echoed in his ears. Trowa clapped his hands over his head and sobbed, burying his face in his knees.

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…"

__

//No…Nanashi help! Help me!//

//Shut up and behave//

Slap.

__

'Stop struggling. Don't you see, you'll make it worse if you fight them? Please stop…' 

//Fucking cunt. Hold still would ya? Look at Nanashi, he's being good. Why can't you just hold still?//

//Nooo…don't let them Nanashi!! Don't let them!! I don't wanna die…//

//Shut the fuck up!//

Smack.

__

'Oh no…this is all my fault. If I hadn't snuck out of the camp to meet her none of this would have happened. I'm so sorry…'

//I think you broke her jaw//

//Serves her right. Now maybe she'll be quiet//

//Come here and kneel down Nanashi. There…that's a good boy. You know better then to struggle, don't you? Now suck it, fast and hard…yeah.//

'Please don't be dead Midii. Please please don't be dead.'

//She's out cold.//

//You didn't kill her did you, you idiot?//

//No…she's still breathing.//

//Good. I want a ride right after I'm finished with our little toy here.//

'Maybe if I'm good enough, they'll leave her alone…'

//Oh yeah…that's a good boy. Now swallow it all down…Good…//

//She's real tight. I think the slut might actually be a virgin, heh heh!//

//Now get down on all fours and spread your legs//

'Just don't think about it. Obey, be silent. It'll be over quicker that way.'

//You know why I'm doing this right?//

'Be silent.'

//You're a slut Nanashi.//

'Yes, a slut.'

//You're a disgusting killer.//

'Disgusting…'

//You deserve this.//

'I deserve this.'

//It's your fault we had to hurt her Nanashi. You got emotionally attached. So we had to teach you a lesson.//

'My fault.'

//It's your fault she's lying there now Nanashi.//

'God, I'm sorry Midii.'

//You're vile//

'Yes.'

//sickening// 

'Yes.'

//unclean//

'Please…I can't…'

//filthy//

'Need to escape…'

//You are nobody. A nameless murderer.//

'Maybe if I close my eyes, it'll go away?'

//We have to do this, to show you your place//

'My place.'

//You understand don't you Nanashi?//

'Stay silent.'

//Sure you do. I bet you like this. You like it when I ram into you. You're aroused you sick bastard. You slut.//

'Oh God no…'

//evil//

'Please.'

//you deserve everything you get. You deserve this Nanashi//

'I just want to die. Please let me die.'

//I'm going to fuck you. Hard. And you're not going to say one word. Not…one…word…//

'Silence is all I have left.'

//Good boy.//

"No…" The choked cry sounded harsh and loud in the still air and Trowa winced when he heard it.

'Silent,' he admonished himself. 'I'm supposed to stay silent.'

"Who's there?"

Trowa stiffened at the sound of another voice, cutting through the silence. He turned slowly, his hands curled into fists, ready to strike out at the first hint of danger. But it was only the worried eyes of a priest he faced and not the cruel sneer he half expected to see. He lowered his hands and some of the tension left his body. The man was old, but not decrepit and the white collar shone brightly in the darkness. The priest took a cautious step towards him.

"Are you all right, my son?" he asked, his tones gentle and soothing, like one might use when talking to a frightened animal.

Trowa just stared at the man, an amazed look on his face. What an incredibly stupid question. Of course he wasn't all right…

"My son?"

Trowa started. The voice was so much closer then he expected. The priest was eyeing him cautiously, one hand outstretched as if to comfort him. Trowa leaped back, as if stung.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed, curling his hands into fists, ready to attack if the man even thought about coming closer. But the priest did not approach him again. He just stood where he was, absolutely still, his eyes both sad and gentle.

"I won't touch you," he soothed. "I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But I want to help you. There is so much pain in your eyes."

Trowa glared at the man for a moment, then his tense body slowly relaxed, his fists uncurling and falling to his sides.

"Why?" he asked curiously, "Why would you want to help me? You don't know who I am. You don't know what I've done. I could kill you now and feel no remorse. I could kill you in an instant and not repent."

The priest regarded him calmly. If he felt fear, his body did not betray him.

"Yes, I've no doubt you could kill me easily. But I am a priest you see. It's my job to comfort and offer spiritual guidance to those in need. Won't you let me help you?"

A harsh, bitter laugh bubbled forth from Trowa's lips.

"I'm not even Catholic. I do not believe in your God," he retorted.

"Maybe not," the priest shrugged. "But that doesn't matter. You are still one of His children."

Trowa considered this, watching warily as the priest slowly sat in one of the pews before him. He thought briefly of just running out of the church but a sudden crash of thunder shook the small building and Trowa thought better of it. He did not want to go out into the storm again. And the priest was old and weak. He could take the man down easily if he needed to.

"How can you help me?" he said, finally. The priest motioned for the boy to sit down next to him. Trowa shook his head and chose another seat, a good distance away. He had no wish to be physically near to anyone at the moment and the priest seemed to understand that, not protesting when the boy moved further away.

The priest took a deep breath, as if considering how to begin. Then he said, "Do you know anything about Catholic Church practices?"

Trowa slowly nodded his head, remembering vague bits of information he had heard from Duo. The boy had attempted to explain certain things to him, but Trowa had never understood it.

"Have you ever heard of Confession?" the priest asked.

Trowa shook his head.

"Confession," the priest explained, "is a private conversation between your priest, you, and God alone. It is where you can talk about anything: your feelings, your fears, your sins, your joys, and it is completely confidential. All priests take a vow of confidentiality which cannot be broken. We Catholics believe that if something is kept inside too long it festers and harms the keeper. Confession is a way to bring all the harmful things out without fear of judgment."

"You want me to confess," Trowa stated, dully. "You don't know what I've done. You wouldn't ask that if you knew."

The priest's eyes were sad but not full of pity, as Trowa feared. The old man gave a small smile and shook his head.

"I am not here to judge you. The only one who may do that it God. And He has already forgiven you. What is it you fear child?"

Trowa bit his lip and looked down at his hands.

"He'll hate me. Quatre will hate me. You'll hate me," he whispered.

"You are a child of God. How could I hate something He created?"

"I hate myself!" Trowa cried violently, his hands burying themselves in his hair.

The priest's voice was very low, very soft. "And that is why you must confess, before your self-hatred destroys you."

Trowa glanced up, startled. The man's face was earnest. He meant what he said.

'Maybe…maybe if I tell him, I'll be free of this. I just want to stop the screaming…' 

"I…I don't remember my parents. I think they died in an accident of some sort. I don't know. I just remember being alone until the mercenaries took me in and trained me to be one of them," Trowa started, keeping his eyes on the floor. He didn't want to see the priest's face when he told of the disgusting things he had done.

"They called me Nanashi, no name. I couldn't remember my real name, you see, and they couldn't be bothered to give me a real one. I was useless to them really, just some punk kid who couldn't hold a gun straight. They fed me and clothed me and I couldn't do anything in return for them. Until…one day the leader told me that there was something I could do, something that would repay all of them. He…made me lay down on the floor and touched me all over, and then he called the others in to do the same thing. I didn't mind. It was kind of…nice at first. They were gentle. They really cared about me. They told me they l-loved me. So I let them do it."

Trowa paused there, waiting for the priest to condemn him, call him a monster and throw him out of the church. But only silence answered him and after a while, Trowa continued the story.

"I was happy there. I was learning how to be a good soldier. I had a family that loved me. Sure some of the things they did hurt but they always hugged me and gave me sweets to eat after so I didn't mind it. But one day things changed. They began to get more violent. And on the day I killed my very first target they took me outside, tied me to a tree and…and whipped me. They said it was my punishment for being a murderer. They said I enjoyed it and I was sick and weak for letting them do it. After they finished whipping me they raped me, all of them, one by one. And I let them b-because I deserved it for being a slut and a killer, you see? It was my fault. It was always my fault. And I got Midii in trouble too…"

Here Trowa's voice trailed off, a shuddering sob escaping the thin, white lips. He did not look up. He didn't dare.

"Stupid kid," he whispered. "I told her not to get involved. I told her to leave. But she wouldn't go. She said she needed me and I…they weren't supposed to touch her. It was my job to keep them…occupied. But I guess I wasn't doing my job very well 'cause they…they and I let them…"

Trowa's hands curled into fists, nails digging painfully into the rain-soaked skin. 

"She trusted me!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the high walls. "She trusted me and I let them torture her!"

"You were only a child," the priest commented, speaking for the first time since Trowa started to tell his story. "You couldn't have done anything."

"You're wrong." Trowa's lips twisted into a parody of a smile. "I was a highly trained killer by now. I could have broken all their necks before they could have raised their hands to me. But I didn't. Not even to save Midii. I was too _afraid_. I didn't want to be alone again. They were the only family I had."

The priest bit his lip but kept silent, waiting for Trowa to continue.

"In the end it was Midii who destroyed them all. She was a spy. She set us up. I was the only one who got out alive. She saved me and I…I hated her. She took them away. My only family…" Trowa laughed bitterly. 

"She wanted me to come with her, did you know that? She told me she loved me. But she was lying. Nobody could love a filthy evil thing like me. So I ran and I got pretty good at running. I hid behind someone else's face, behind someone else's mask. I became someone else and it worked. I was strong. I was free. I was someone else. And then…Why am I telling you this? Why am I even telling you this?"

"Because you need to?" the priest suggested, watching Trowa's face. "Nanashi…"

"Trowa," the boy spat, as if tasting something vile. "It's Trowa Barton now. But that's not my real name either. I stole it from a dead man, just like I stole his identity. I am truly nothing."

"I'm sure not everybody thinks that, Trowa. You mentioned someone named Quatre?"

'Quatre.'

"A friend maybe?"

Trowa started to nod and then stopped himself. 

"I…we…it's kind of complicated."

"More then a friend," the priest concluded.

"Well…yes."

"And why do you think he hates you?"

"Be…Because it's my fault!"

"What's your fault?"

"That he's…"

Trowa stopped, his voice trailing off. He couldn't say it out loud. Speaking it made it true. Speaking it made it real. Only silence had protected him all this time and now one meeting with an old meddling priest had blown it all to hell.

"Trowa…look at me."

Trowa refused to glance up.

"Look at me, Trowa."

Reluctantly the boy raised his head. He braced himself for the accusing, angry eyes he was used to. Instead he saw kindness and warmth in those deep set brown eyes. 

"My son, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"A monster." Trowa replied, sullenly.

"I don't. All I see is a hurt and confused child, who deserved much better from life. You have suffered more then one should ever have to bear. And yet you keep on fighting for what you believe in. There's something special in you Trowa Barton. Your friend Quatre must see it too. Do you trust in him?"

Trowa looked confused. 

"I…yes."

"Then you must trust that he would not give his love so freely to a monster."

Trowa felt a blush rise to his cheeks and he fidgeted in his seat, embarrassed that the priest had found him out. A little of the guilt that had so overpowered him was gone, melted away under the priest's calm logic. But some uncertainty remained, Trowa was still not convinced.

"You don't understand. He deserves someone strong. Someone who can protect him and keep him safe. I'm a nameless nobody. I have nothing to give him," Trowa argued.

The priest sighed and leaned back against the hard wooden pew.

"Let me tell you a little story," he said, "about a boy I once knew. He was so young when I found him. And like you, he had seen his share of suffering in the world. But there was something really special about him. He kept a genuine joy of life, even though his had been rough. He told me once that he never knew his real name but he used his name to honor the memory of one of his friends who had died. At the time the church was going through some struggles and people being what they are, some of the more vicious one's tried to blame the way things were on him. Some of the things they called him were down right horrible. "Demon," "Hell's Spawn," "Little Beast." But he didn't let it get to him much. He told me that it didn't matter what other people called him. He knew his true name in his heart and the significance carried with that name and that was all he needed in order to keep going."

Cautiously, the priest moved the put a heavy hand on Trowa's shoulder. The banged boy tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, allowing the touch.

"Tell me," the priest said, thoughtfully. "Does your Quatre call you anything besides "Trowa"?

Trowa blushed even more at the "your Quatre" part, but he nodded hesitantly.

"H-he sometimes calls me _habib_."

The priest smiled as if amused. "Do you know what it means?"

Trowa shook his head. "He won't tell me when I ask him. He just blushes and waves his hands around until I drop the issue."

"If you ever get him to tell you, remember that it's your true name, the one you carry inside your heart. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Only that. And quit beating yourself up about things that were completely out of your control, okay? If you don't love yourself first, then you can't be free to love somebody else." The priest suddenly grinned. "God included." 

Still a bit confused, Trowa nodded and awkwardly folded his hands in his lap.

"So…what now?"

The priest's smile grew wider and he hauled himself to his feet, using Trowa's shoulder as leverage.

"Well now that your confession is over and the storm's died down…"

Startled, Trowa glanced out the huge stained-glass windows. The rain had all but trickled to a stop and the sky was brightening considerably.

"…you should go back home to your Quatre. The boy's probably worried sick about you."

Trowa nodded and stood, giving a slight nod to the old, stooped man before him.

"I…can't thank you enough—"

The man waved him off impatiently. 

"Now don't start that. I'm just doing my job. Makes me feel a bit more useful here. Now you get going. And Trowa?"

"Yes?"

"Stay safe."

Trowa gave a brief smile before heading off into the night, anxious to get back to his hurting angel.

'My poor Quatre, I understand now. It wasn't your fault and it wasn't mine. There isn't anything that can change the past. But maybe together we can build a new future.' 

Back inside the church a deep silence surrounded the place. But it wasn't the same, panicked filled silence that was there before. Broken particles of light streamed in through the stained-glass windows, creating colourful patterns on the floor. Before the alter, the sole priest knelt, his head titled as if he were listening to some unheard voice.

//Time to come back now Herbert. You did a good job.//

The priest smiled. 

"I just hope that kid finds the peace he's been looking for."

//I'm sure he will. God takes care of all his children.//

"You always know the right thing to say, don't you Helen? Why didn't they let you take this job?"

//Because you were the one who was needed. Besides, you needed the experience.//

Laughter rang through the church like a joyful Alleluia. 

"That I did. You know I think I'm getting the hang of this Guardian Angel thing."

//Yes. You did well. Now come home, Father.//

"Yes, Sister."

And with that, the old priest's body seemed to fade and become as incorporeal as air itself. The light from the window above the alter became brighter and brighter until the church seemed bathed in a golden wash, hues of purple and red splashed across the ceiling. And then…

All was quiet. And the space where seconds before, an old man had knelt at the alter…was empty.


	9. Blood Roses

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content. Cutting and suicidal references.

*

BLOOD ROSES

Blood roses blood roses back on the street now

can't forget the things you never said on days like

these gets me thinking when chickens get a taste

of your meat chickens get a taste of your meat you

gave him your blood and your warm little diamond

he likes killing you after you're dead you think I'm a

queer I think you're a queer I think you're a queer

said I think you're a queer and I shaved every place

where you been I shaved every place where you

been God knows I know I've thrown away those

graces the Belle of New Orleans tried to show me

once how to tango wrapped around your feet

wrapped around like good little roses Blood Roses

blood roses back on the street now now you've cut

out the flute from the throat of the loon at least

when you cry now he can't even hear you when

chickens get a taste of your meat when he sucks

you deep sometimes you're nothing but meat

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter 8 – Blood Roses

Quatre woke to the light sound of Duo's snoring. He woke, which meant that at one point he must have been asleep. 

'Heero. Heero must have drugged the tea…'

He considered getting angry but decided that it wasn't worth it. The boy had only been trying to help and he _had_ needed the rest. Besides, under the gentle cloud of codine his sleep was dark and dreamless. No monsters came out of the shadows to make him bleed once more. In fact, it was sad that he had to awaken to this horror again…

He felt a warmth at his side and tensed, carefully opening his eyes to find the braided boy curled up next to him, Heero on the other side, an arm wrapped loosely around his waist. Quatre observed the gentle scene and almost smiled.

Almost.

And then reality came crashing back and he hated both of them with a vengeance, he hated them for being able to sleep without the aid of drugs. He hated the simple touch that Duo could endure from Heero without flinching. He hated the happiness and peace the shared. He hated…

'No, no…how could I? They are innocent, innocent. I'm the dirty one. They're blameless. Look at Duo's face. He's not smiling. There are tear tracks down his cheeks. He's in pain because of me. I don't deserve to feel this. I don't deserve to feel…'

Slowly, Quatre eased himself off the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom, careful not to wake the sleeping pair. Closing the door with a sense of relief, Quatre looked at himself in the mirror above the medicine cabinet.

He look exactly the same as he had always looked, except for the white bandage on his neck and the red rimmed eyes that looked hollowly out at himself. Quatre hated the figure. He lied. He still looked human. He still looked alive and _it wasn't true!_ He was dead! He was!

Quatre's body, which had been considerably numb due to the drug Heero had slipped into his tea, was now shaking its effects. Quatre felt a white hot flash of pain slide throughout his body and his world tilted for a moment before he grabbed the counter in an attempt to stay upright. Gasping, the boy leaned his forehead on the cool porcelain of the sink until his vertigo passed. The room was slightly cold and he shivered, placing his hands around his body as if to protect himself. After a while, the dizziness vanished and Quatre stood and made his way to the edge of the bathtub, where he sat down heavily and debated taking another hot shower. He still felt…

And that was the problem. He _felt_ and he didn't want to. He wanted the nice numbness back. He wanted to lose himself in that white cloud again. He briefly wondered if Heero had any of those codeine capsules left.

A quick search of the medicine cabinet showed that if Heero did, he wasn't keeping them in Quatre's room. Quatre sighed and sat back down on the tub's edge, placing his head between his knees.

'I just want this to go away.'

__

//Never…//

'I just want this to go away.'

__

//I'm here in your head.//

'This isn't the way it was supposed to be.'

__

//This is the way it's always going to be.//

'And I…'
__

//Would you?//

'…can't do this.'

__

//Help me.//

'Stop!'

__

//I fear too much. I see too much. I hear too much. I feel too much.//

'Please…'
__

//Too much.//

Laughing. Someone was laughing at him. So loud…Quatre covered his ears with his hands but he couldn't block the sound out. It was there, inside his head.

"Please…" he whimpered, trying to curl in on himself. "I don't want this."

Hands burned trails across his skin, leaving the feel of dripping filth in its wake, a stain of something foul that Quatre couldn't seem to wipe away. It was all over him, smothering him, taking over the body, this body, he _hated_ this body, this body that betrayed him and called others to touch, to take like it was theirs, their body, all bodies, dead bodies, so shiny and waxy and sweaty and heavy heavy falling to the floor, falling…

__

//Inside, inside, there's something inside! Let it out, let it out, LET IT OUT.//

Sobbing, Quatre searched the bathroom, not even sure of what he was searching for. His hands grasped a bottle of cologne, a hairbrush, a razor…

__

//Inside, Inside, INSIDE.//

"Quiet! I can't think anymore! I can't…" Quatre shouted but his voice only whispered, only rasped in painful shadows. Even after it was all over, he could not find a voice to speak those words.

The hand that held the razor quivered and then slashed down in a dizzying arc to swipe a shallow cut across the bare flesh of his right thigh. And the voice in his head were strangely silent as the blood welled out and dripped down his leg with a soft pat-pat sound. And Quatre knew a brief peace.

'So…this was what moved inside. This was the violence I kissed. This is ghost disease, this sick inside of me. So pretty…like flower blooming red, red. I'm crazy now. Am I crazy now? I must be, must be.'

"Quatre."

The blond boy turned calm eyes to the figure in the doorway, not concerned with the blood now pooling on the tiled floor.

"Heero."

It seemed there was nothing more to say after that. What could be left? What could one _say_?Words have no capacity for that and those who try are making a mockery of moments.

The spiky haired boy silently grabbed hand towel from the rack and pressed it to the wound on Quatre's thigh. The washcloth was blue. It turned a pretty purple. Quatre let him wipe off the blood, placing yet another white bandage on the split skin. A small smile marked Quatre's face as he thought of an entire body swathed in white, no ugly flesh peaking through to tempt and stain, except for perfect blossoms of blood roses.

"Quatre…"

Heero paused, uncertain of what to do. There were no resources to fall back on here. There was no safe ground. They couldn't discuss the weather. This wasn't the weather. And comfort was never his strong suit.

"Why?"

And, though he never expected him to, the boy answered.

"Because it made the screaming in my head stop, just for a little while."

And he nodded, because it made sense. Still…

"Will you do it again?"

"I don't know."

"Quatre, this isn't…it's not the end, you know?"

Bitter laughter. It sounds so strange from mouths that never uttered it before.

"Why not? What's left? Is there more? I don't want any more. I've had enough, thank you very much."

"I meant…Quatre he's taken so much from you already. Will you let him take your life? Your love?"

Quatre stared at Heero, his eyes like burning ocean water, clear and brutal.

"Love? No one can love a whore."

Heero opened his mouth to protest but Quatre interrupted him.

"I don't care what Duo said. I don't care that it wasn't my fault. That doesn't take away the fact that I'm no longer innocent. I've lost things, precious things. Trowa loved me for these things. And now I'll never get them back."

"So tell me Heero," Quatre whispered, pressing a palm to the white bandage on his thigh, watching the cotton tinge with red, "tell me; who's going to love me now?"

Heero took Quatre's hand and pulled it from the bandage, quieting it in his own perfect palm.

"Trowa loves you," he said. "Trowa will always love you. No matter what. But even if he doesn't there are still many others that love you."

"It's not the same type of love," Quatre argued. "I can still be the pitiful creature you need to protect, I can still be the younger sibling that follows along behind. But what about the other side of me? Who wants to kiss lips that bleed? Who wants a body that's been used? Who?! Can you tell me that Heero?! Well can you?!"

The boy's eyes shut tight and his body shook violently. Under his breath he murmured soft cries, pleading with an unknown force for a quiet space once again. Or maybe it was himself with which he pleaded. It didn't matter since neither of them knew the answer.

Heero put a hand on Quatre's shoulder and flinched when the boy shied away from his touch. 

"Quatre…"

__

//It wasn't supposed to be like this.//

Arms wrapped around him and for once, Heero let the Perfect Soldier inside himself be silenced, offering comfort that was only human and nothing more. His hands moved in soothing strokes over the blond boy's back, rocking him gently as he screamed into his chest, tears soaking through the thin fabric of his tank top. Over his shoulder Heero saw Duo in the doorway, his face drawn and tired, as if his sleep had been anything but restful. They stayed there, still and silent except for choked cries and murmured words of comfort. Outside the rain had stopped, but he water still flowed around them all, drowning them in its vengeance. 


	10. Scream In Cathedrals

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content. Suicidal references. 

*

I I E E E 

With your E's 

and your ease 

and I do one more 

need a lip gloss boost 

in your America 

is it God's 

is it yours 

sweet saliva 

with your E's 

and your ease 

and I do one more 

I know we're dying 

and there's no sign of a parachute 

we scream in cathedrals 

why can't it be beautiful 

why does there gotta be a sacrifice 

just say yes 

you little arsonist 

you're so sure you can save 

every hair on my chest 

just say yes 

you little arsonist 

with your E's 

and your ease 

and I do one more 

well I know we're dying 

and there's no sign of a parachute 

in this chapel 

little chapel of love 

can't we get a little grace 

and some elegance 

no we scream in cathedrals 

why can't it be beautiful 

why does there 

gotta be a sacrifice? 

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 9 – Scream in Cathedrals

After Quatre had calmed a bit, he allowed Heero and Duo to tuck him back into bed with little resistance. He watched dispassionately as Heero silently fed him another of those precious tablets that would allow him to sleep undisturbed. He even smiled, faintly, as a drug induced haze fogged his mind, dragging him down into soft, gentle darkness. He didn't even feel when Duo brushed a tense hand over his forehead.

"We can't keep drugging him, Heero. Sooner or later he's going to have to face the fact that he was…that he…"

Heero glared at Duo, a scowl gracing his normally passive features.

"How the hell do you expect him to accept this when you can't even say the Goddamn word?" he snapped.

Duo's face crumpled and he bit his lip hard, cutting into the tender flesh. Tangy, metallic blood welled up, staining his lips a bright red.

Heero sighed and ran a hand through his unruly mass of hair.

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting down heavily on the corner of Quatre's bed. "I didn't mean that. It's just that this whole situation…"

"I know," Duo said, coming to sit beside him, although a little bit further away then he would have normally sat. Heero noticed this fact and winced, berating himself for his stupidity.

"Heero…do you think he'll ever be okay again?"

Heero shrugged miserably. "I just don't know. I've never…dealt with this before. I never thought I was going to have to. I don't know what to say to him, how to comfort him at all. What if all I'm doing is making things worse? I know we can't keep him drugged forever but I can't stand to see him suffer like this…" Heero laughed bitterly, clenching his hands into fists. "Looks like the Perfect Soldier's just a Perfect Failure."

"Don't say that."

Duo was closer now, his hands resting on top of Heero's fisted ones, his violet eyes looking straight into the prussian blues raised to him.

"This is in no way your fault."

Heero stared back at him, unbelieving. 

"Heero…it's not."

Silence.

"It's not!"

"IT IS!" Heero shouted, ripping his hands from Duo's grasp and putting them around himself in a defensive gesture. "You don't understand! I'm the leader. I'm the one who's supposed to look out for the rest of the team. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to _be there_ and I wasn't, I wasn't there and I'm sorry, so sorry Quatre, that I wasn't there…"

"Shh…" Duo enveloped Heero in a warm embrace and this time, the distraught soldier did not pull away. Instead he hid his face in the juncture between Duo's neck and shoulder and released a series of painful, shuddering breaths. Duo held the boy and rocked him gently, murmuring nonsense words while he stroked the fine hair pressed against his chest. Not one tear fell from those crystalline eyes, although they burned painfully. Even in this brief respite of Duo's arms, Heero could not completely let go. No more than a foot away from them, Quatre slept on, oblivious.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Wufei walked through the muddy streets; not paying any attention to the puddles that swallowed and soaked his feet. He had left the motorcycle parked at a supermarket nearby, not wanting to risk driving it in his shaky state. One hand rose to the reddened and swollen cheek where Trowa's punch had caught him, rubbing softly as if he couldn't believe that it had happened.

'Trowa…what's the matter with you? Why are you acting this way? I know you care about him, so why?'

The rain had stopped, leaving a dusky scent of leftover moisture in the air. Wufei walked aimlessly, letting his feet lead in whatever direction they seemed prone to take. He did not wish to return home. He did not want to face Quatre. 

'How the hell am I going to explain to him that Trowa isn't coming back when I can't even explain it to myself?' 

Wearily, Wufei allowed himself a moment to rest; looking up at the cloud swept sky where the sun was just beginning to peek through. The streets were still empty and quiet, thick fog rising like pale ghosts from the sidewalk. It gave the whole scene an ethereal quality that left Wufei wondering, briefly, if maybe this was all some sort of demented dream brought on by stress and ice cream before bed, and any minute now he would wake up and everything would be normal again. 

But…no, his cheek throbbed and ached with real pain. His footsteps echoed off the pavement. His breath misted in the air. If this was a dream, it was unlike any he had ever experienced before. 

Wufei kept walking, water droplets soaking into his shirt, causing it to stick to his body uncomfortably. He knew that he probably looked a mess. His hair was surely coming out of its tight ponytail and his cheek was probably a nice purple shade by now. 

'How…how could this happen? I don't understand this, not at all. What the hell am I doing here?' 

Wufei feet stopped and he turned only to find himself in front of the very place he was trying to escape from. The house seemed immense and dark, though it was not particularly large and there were several lights on. Maybe it was just because of the dark secrets it contained…

'I didn't want to come back here. Why am I here?' 

Wufei sighed and stood on the front lawn, just gazing at the still house. At least he couldn't hear Quatre's terrible screams anymore…

"Like that counts for anything…"

The whisper that came from his lips was harsh. It broke the fragile spell that had held Wufei motionless for so long. Panic struck him now and he turned as if to run back into the streets, away from this horrible place, away from this crushing knowledge that he had, that he didn't want, that he never asked for…

"Wufei!"

Frozen, the Chinese boy could only watch as a braided figure appeared in the window, looking down at him with something akin to relief. He gave a shuddering sigh.

"Duo…"

"Stay there! I'll be down in a moment to let you in," Duo called, his face disappearing from the window, leaving only a brief flash of braid to flicker mockingly at him while he stood there.

In a few moments, Duo was opening the front door and pulling Wufei inside, fussing over his wet clothes and chattering nervously.

"Wufei! I'm so glad you're back, we were getting worried about you. Did you find Trowa? Is he coming? Quatre really needs him right now. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep him calm without getting him addicted to codeine or something…Wufei? Are you okay? Where's Trowa?" Duo tried to peer into Wufei's eyes but a curtain of black hair, loose from its ponytail, had slipped over the boy's face, obscuring his view.

"I…Duo, I…"

"Yes?"

A silence followed, long and tense like fishing wire about to snap.

"I couldn't find Trowa. I'm sorry Duo." Wufei said finally, swallowing hard.

Duo's face fell for a moment, and then he brightened.

"Well he's gotta show up sometime. It's almost six o'clock and he never misses dinner with Quatre," he said confidently.

Wufei nodded his agreement, feeling slightly sick inside.

"Where is Quatre?" he asked, wanting to reassure himself about his friend's safety.

Duo looked troubled, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"He's upstairs, sleeping. Heero gave him some sleeping tablets a while ago…it's seemed the only way to get him to calm down. I don't know if…Wufei, he cut himself, with a razor."

"What?!"

"Not on the wrists, just the thigh. I don't think he was thinking about suicide…he just wanted to stop the pain…" Duo said, his hands unconsciously wrapping around his braid and twisting the rope of hair.

Wufei looked towards the stairs, an expression of horror on his face.

"God…"

"Wufei…" Duo bent towards the boy, as if telling him a secret, and Wufei leaned back, his hands dripping moisture on the white carpet. "Wufei, I heard Quatre tell Heero…I heard him tell Heero that he wasn't worthy anymore, of Trowa's love."

A flash of anger in Wufei's eyes.

"That's preposterous! He can't actually believe…"

"But he does. That's why we need to get Trowa here as soon as possible. Quatre needs to know that he's not dirty in Trowa's eyes."

Wufei's breath caught and his head drooped, eyes examining the floor with dazed interest. Inside himself emotions battled and he cursed Trowa and himself for what he knew.

Duo saw the self-hatred in Wufei's clenched fists and misinterpreted the reason for it, taking Wufei's hand in his own.

"Hey now, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault you couldn't find him. I'm sure he'll turn up soon. C'mon, let's go visit Quatre."

Wufei was too tired to protest, letting the braided boy lead him upstairs to the quiet room where Heero sat vigil over the sleeping form of the broken angel on bloody, rumpled sheets. He looked up sharply when the two entered but his eyes softened minutely when he saw Duo. The braided boy gave Heero a soft smile and an encouraging nod, coming over to place a hand on his shoulder. Wufei did not notice this exchange. All his focus was on the blond boy in the middle of the bed, his head tossed to the side, hands clutching the coverlet tightly to his body, even in sleep.

"Quatre…"

Wufei bent over the pale boy and brushed a few strands of golden hair off his face, holding his breath when the fragile creature stirred and blinked open sleepy blue-green eyes.

"Mmm…Trowa?"

Wufei bit his lips, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

"No," he said, quietly. "Not Trowa."

The eyes blinked again, and then focused. 

"W-Wufei? What—"

"Shh…rest. I won't allow any harm to come to you," the boy promised, knowing that it was a promise that came too late.

But the golden child refused to be comforted. He sat up, resting his weight on his elbows as he looked searchingly into Wufei's face.

"Wufei? What happened to you? Your cheek is bruised…did you get into a fight?"

Instantly, Duo and Heero's concerned gazes shifted from Quatre to Wufei. Frowns marred both their faces and Heero's eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

Wufei put a hand to the offended cheek, trying to hide it from view.

"I'm fine. It's nothing…you should go back to sleep."

"No!" Quatre leaned forward, taking Wufei's hand from his face, eager to have the focus shift from his to somebody else for a while. "You're hurt. Who hit you Wufei? Where's Trowa?"

Wufei's mouth dropped open but he made no sound, the words choking him. His heart pounded frantically in his ears and he had to fight down the panic and bile that rose in his throat. 

"I…Trowa is…"

"Right here."

All eyes flew to the doorway where a thoroughly wet and out of breath Trowa leaned against the wall, his eyes locked onto the pale form on the bed.

"Trowa!" Quatre's face brightened and he held out a hand, but a second later his smile vanished and he pulled the hand back, clutching it to his chest. The silence was thick and suffocating. Duo's hand gripped Heero's so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Wufei held his breath, waiting…

One heartbeat passed. 

And then two.

And then Trowa was by Quatre's side, his arms reaching out to enfold the smaller boy in a gentle hug. Tears, silvery and bright leaked from Trowa's eyes as he held the stunned boy tight, waiting for him to relax in his arms, willing to understand if the boy he held would never be able to relax in his arms. 

"T-Trowa," Quatre choked out, his sobs distorting whatever else he might have wanted to say. His body was stiff and unyielding at the contact but the body close to his was familiar and warm. He knew this body. He knew Trowa. He was safe now. 

All at once Quatre fell limp, his head burying itself in Trowa's already wet shirt. His hands grasped the edges of his elbows loosely, just barely holding on. Trowa murmured soothing words of comfort, rubbing his hands in a circular pattern over Quatre's back, massaging some warmth back into the cold hands that clutched feebly at him.

"I know…" he whispered into Quatre's ear. "I know what you're feeling. I've felt it too. You're not alone."

"Trowa?"

"You're not alone," he repeated, looking deeply into Quatre's eyes, dropping his mask completely for the first time, letting the boy see what he had hid, even from himself, all these years.

And Quatre sighed, letting his eyes droop shut as he leaned into his lover's embrace. There was peace here, but it was far from over. There were still uncertainties, still monsters that waited in the darkness. But at least, for a little while, the screaming in Quatre's head subsided, as Trowa's pain mingled with Quatre's to create bittersweet unity. They understood, and it was enough.


	11. Cloud On my Tongue

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content. More fact then fiction: the alarming lack of sensitivity in our justice system.

*

CLOUD ON MY TONGUE

Someone's knockin on my kitchen door

leave the wood outside

what all the girls here are freezing cold

leave me with your Borneo

I don't need much to keep me warm

don't stop now what you're doing

what you're doing my ugly one

bring them all here

hard to hide a hundred girls in your hair

it won't be fair if I hate her

if I ate her

you can go now

you're already in there

I'll be wearing your tattoo

you're already in there

got a cloud sleeping on my tongue

he goes then it goes

and kiss the violets as they're waking up

leave me with your Borneo

leave me the way I was before

you're already in there

I'll be wearing your tattoo

I'm already in circles and circles and circles again

the girl's in circles and circles got to stop spinning

circles and circles and circles again

thought I was over the bridge now

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 10 – Cloud on My Tongue

After a long, tender silence, Trowa released Quatre from his embrace and reached a hand up to cup the soft cheek.

"It's up to you now," he said, stroking the cheek beneath his fingers. "What do you want to do?"

"Do?"

Quatre's eyes were confused; his mind only intent on the fact that Trowa was touching him and not looking disgusted. He leaned into the touch and then paused, suddenly uncomfortable with the contact.

Trowa smiled and put some space between them, understanding Quatre's sudden withdrawal.

"It's okay…" he soothed, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can just leave this country and not speak of this, or we can call the police and press charges, or we can—"

"Blow up the guy's house and then stomp on him with Deathscythe? I vote for that option!" Duo interrupted, his eyes flashing dangerously, promising all kinds of violence if he were only given the chance.

"Quiet baka!" Wufei hissed, seeing the way Quatre's body hunched up uncomfortably, although he himself was itching to administer some "justice" to the one who would hurt another person so.

"No killing!" Quatre said his eyes pleading with Duo to understand. "We do enough of that and…I don't need another death on my conscience right now. I…" Quatre's head bowed and he shivered, hugging his arms to his chest protectively. "I just want to forget this whole thing, forget that it ever happened."

Reluctantly, Duo nodded, his eyes losing the blatant threat of Shinigami as his body relaxed against Heero's.

"Fine," he said, "no killing. But Quatre…you have to do _something_. What if this guy's already done the same thing to other people? What if he's planning on doing it again to somebody else?"

"He doesn't have to do _anything_ he doesn't want to," Trowa snapped, glaring at Duo and putting his arms around Quatre, who had gone two shades paler at Duo's words.

The blonde boy trembled in Trowa's arms, his eyes wide and afraid.

If he did nothing, would others suffer because of it? Would another boy meet the same fate as he did just because Quatre was too ashamed and embarrassed to come forward?

"I-I don't want…it to happen again. I…" he looked to Trowa for reassurance. The uni-banged boy smiled and nodded minutely. 

"Call the police. I'll issue a statement," Quatre whispered, wishing he knew why this pronouncement felt like a death sentence. 

Heero was on the phone in a second, talking to the chief of police. Quatre blocked out the conversation. He didn't want to hear what was being said about him. Huddled in Trowa's arms, he counted breaths and heartbeats until Heero came back and sat down beside them on the bed.

"They want you to come down to the station," he said.

"Now?" Quatre asked, his voice panicked.

Heero looked at him, his eyes gentle yet serious.

"Quatre, the sooner you issue your statement, the faster they can arrest this guy and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else."

"You don't have to go right now," Trowa said, pressing a light kiss to Quatre's temple. "But you might feel better if you did. The details might not be as clear in your mind tomorrow."

Quatre looked at the concerned faces of his friends and sighed, a tiny smile gracing his face. It would be okay now. Trowa was here. Trowa still loved him. The police would stop the bad person. Everything would be okay.

"…Okay. Let's go now."

Impulsively, Duo hugged the boy, reaching around to enfold Trowa in his embrace as well.

"It'll work out Quatre, you'll see. Everything's going to be just fine. We'll take care of you and nobody'll ever be able to hurt you again," he promised rashly, not minding the way his eyes sparkled just a bit too brightly. 

If Quatre saw the unshed tears in Duo's eyes he didn't comment on them, only letting himself be comforted in the fact that Duo Maxwell had just told him that everything would be okay, and Duo Maxwell never lies.

While Duo Maxwell never lies, the world seems to have a much different opinion of the truth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wufei sighed and shifted the ice pack on his cheek. The plastic chair he was sitting on was very uncomfortable and the clock on the wall displayed a much later time then he had expected to still be sitting in it. Then again, he couldn't complain too much. After all, the nurses at the hospital had given him some ice to combat the swelling of his face while he waited.

'What's taking so long. I know the taking of a statement lasts a while but not four whole hours! Poor Quatre must be exhausted by now…' 

Wufei moved restlessly in his chair and looked around the small waiting room he and the rest of the pilots, not including Quatre, had been placed in. Duo and Heero were in the corner of the room, talking quietly to each other. Wufei couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the look on Duo's face, it obviously wasn't something pleasant. Then again, what could be pleasant to talk about in a police station?

Trowa sat by the door, his muscles tense, his jaw tight with worry. He had been especially upset when the police had told him that he could not be present during the statement, but there was nothing he could do. Quatre was alone with the detective in another room somewhere, probably scared out of his mind.

'Quatre…' 

They had gone to the doctor first, but Quatre had refused any type of medical examination. He was too terrified to let anyone else but the pilots touch him. Heero was able to retrieve some of Quatre's blood for testing, something nobody wanted to think about at the moment, but he would not be allowed to conduct the rest of the examination, and Quatre wasn't about to let strangers do it either. After a few painful tries, they gave up on gathering any evidence and just took Quatre to the police station to report the rape.

Quatre had almost reconsidered reporting it after his bad experience with the examination, but Trowa's support and Duo's urgings managed to convince him to go on with it.

Now Wufei was wondering if it had maybe been a mistake to continue after all.

'What the hell could be taking so long?' 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre shivered and pulled his sweater tighter around himself. Trowa had made him put it on before they left and although it had seemed foolish to wear the bulky thing in the middle of summer, he was glad for it now. The room seemed very cold to him, although it might just be the fact that he was nervous to the point of making himself sick.

The detective, Quatre couldn't remember his name, was very tall, very blond, and very imposing, at least, he seemed that way to Quatre. The room was small, almost closet-like in its appearance. There were no windows, no natural light sources, no plants. There was a small table and two chairs, and a small clock on the wall. Quatre had been seated in the chair farthest from the door and with the detective sitting across from him, blocking the exit, he felt more then a little penned it.

"This room has a video recorder in it that will tape our conversation," the detective said. "Pay no attention to it, just talk to me like you normally would in a conversation. I'm going to ask you some questions and I want you to tell me, in as much detail as you possibly can, what happened, okay?"

"I…okay."

"What is your name?"

"Quatre Raberba Winner."

"And how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Can you tell me what happened to you this morning?"

"I…I was out with my…with some friends. I wanted some time to myself so I took off on my own. I went shopping…downtown on Shevor Street. I went into C-Cadmy's Clothing Store…"

"And what happened next?"

"T-there was a man at the counter. H-he said that his name was Kyle. He asked if he could help me with anything."

"And what did you say?"

"I…I wanted to try something on. A suit. I asked to try on a suit. He showed me to the change rooms—"

"Which change room were you in? Can you remember?"

"The…the second one from the right, I think."

"What happened?" 

"I…I was changing and then…he just came in without any warning. I didn't know what to say."

"Did he try to hurt you?"

"No, not then."

"Did you tell him that his lack of warning made you uncomfortable?"

"I…no."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to…I thought that…I don't know."

"Mr. Winner?"

"I don't know!"

The detective gave the boy a stern look and made a dismissive gesture.

"Calm yourself Mr. Winner. What happened after he burst in on you changing?"

"He gave me another size to try on and left. I…went on like nothing unusual had happened. When I was changing out of the suit the second time he…he came up behind me and…"

Quatre stopped to gasp for air, his hands shaking as he reached for the glass of stale water the detective had given him. After a few gulps he managed to calm down a bit. Through all this the man had said nothing. Even now he was just staring at Quatre, his eyes sharp like knives, piercing and cold. Quatre shivered beneath that stare. 

'He…why doesn't he say anything? Doesn't he believe me? Why is he staring at me? Please somebody…Trowa tell him to stop looking at me like that. I'm not lying, I'm NOT.' 

"Are you ready to continue?"

"Y-yes."

"Can you tell me, in detail, exactly what he did to you?"

"I…I was facing away from the curtain. I could see in the mirror when he came in. He g-grabbed me around the waist and…and rubbed himself against me."

"From behind?"

"Yes."

"What next?"

"H-he was touching me…my…privates, inside my boxers. He kissed my neck. I fell to the floor. H-he pulled down his pants, and then he pulled down my pants, and then he…he…"

"He what?"

"He…"

"Please Mr. Winner, you must tell me or I won't be able to help you."

Quatre looked down at the hands he was clenching in his lap. He couldn't bear to watch the detective's face, couldn't stand those eyes…

"He raped me. Stuck himself inside of me."

"Did you say anything? Scream for help? Tell him no?"

"I couldn't. I was just…frozen."

"You didn't speak at all?"

"No."

"Did you struggle at all? Kick, punch, scratch?"

"No."

'Stupid, stupid. Should have fought back. Should have said no. Shouldn't have gone off alone. Why didn't I at least say no? I'm so stupid. I deserved to have this happen. I deserved this.' 

"What did Kyle look like?"

"Tall. With dark hair and dark eyes. Either brown or black."

"You don't know which?"

"I can't remember."

"Facial hair, scars, birthmarks?"

"He was clean-shaven. I don't remember seeing any birthmarks or scars on his skin. He was wearing a white shirt with black dress pants. I don't remember any more."

"Did you know him at all before this incident?"

"No."

"What were you wearing when he burst in on you the first time?"

"What?!" Quatre was startled. He hadn't expected that question at all.

'Why is he asking that? What difference does it make what I was wearing?' 

"Please answer the question."

"I…I was changing. I was only in my boxers at the time."

"Mr. Winner, you refused a medical examination, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I couldn't…it's just too difficult for me to do at this point in time."

'He thinks I'm lying. He thinks I'm lying. He thinks I'm a liar, liar, liar, liar, liar…'

"What happened after he raped you?"

"He…he left. I stayed on the floor for a while longer…"

"How long?"

"I don't know. Not very long. I got dressed and went home."

"Is there anything you wish to add to or change about this story?"

"No."

"Nothing at all?"

"No."

'LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR' 

A knock on the door interrupted Quatre's thoughts. The detective excused himself and then left to talk with someone. Quatre was left alone inside the room. 

'I'm so cold…How long have I been in here? I want Trowa. Why was he asking me all those questions about what I was wearing? The video camera's still on. Is somebody watching me? Trying to see if I'm lying or not? Do they not believe me? I'm so tired; I just want to go home. Where's Trowa? I want Trowa…' 

Quatre sat in silence, his eyes glued to the tabletop so he wouldn't be tempted to look around the room for the hidden camera. The room seemed so tiny all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in on him. He never used to be claustrophobic before. What was wrong with him?

The abrupt entrance of the detective nearly caused Quatre to jump out of his chair. Fear clawed at his throat and his heart thrummed frantically in his chest. The detective didn't seem to notice his sudden panic, or if he did, he didn't comment on it.

"Mr. Winner, while we have been talking, I've sent a team up to Cadmy's Store to pick up the surveillance tapes for the change rooms. They are reviewing these tapes now. Before we hear the results, are you sure you don't want to change your story in any way?"

'Surveillance tapes?' 

"I…of course not. It happened just the way I said. I don't want to change anything."

"All right."

They sat in silence again, Quatre feeling nervous and more then a bit apprehensive. Surveillance tapes. Someone was watching him being violated at this very moment. 

'I'm so embarrassed. I don't want them to see that. I don't want anyone to see that.' 

Another knock on the door sounded and the detective disappeared through the door again, leaving Quatre with his thoughts. By now the boy was so jittery his hands were shaking and he could barely hold the cup of water to his lips to drink. When the detective came back in, again without any warning, Quatre's mind screamed at him to run away, get away from this bad feeling, these horrible memories creeping up on him.

"Mr. Winner they have reviewed the tapes and…the attack did not show up on them at all. Are you sure you have all the details correct?"

Quatre's mouth dropped open, his face pale and slackened with shock.

"W…what? It didn't…show up?"

"According to the video, no one was in that change room today."

Quatre's mind was blank. He couldn't think. All the blood was rushing to his head, making him slightly dizzy.

'No one was there. No one, NO ONE. It didn't show up on tape. It didn't show up at all.' 

"I…Are you sure you got the right change room? Maybe it was another…"

"We checked all the change rooms' video tapes. Nothing. Do you want to change your story?"

Unbelieving, Quatre shook his head from side to side. 

"No…no, it happened, I swear it did. He raped me! It really did happen! I felt it…"

"Tell me what happened again. Be as descriptive as you can be."

Quatre rattled off his story a second time, the events and words seeming to blur together in his mind. One thought seemed to repeat itself in his head in an endless litany:

'…he doesn't believe you, he think you're lying, he doesn't believe you, he thinks you're lying…' /But I'm not lying! It happened!/ 'Then why didn't it show up on video?' /There must be a mistake. It happened!/ 'He doesn't believe you. He thinks you're a liar.' 

"Mr. Winner, did that injury on your neck come from the attack?"

The detective pointed to the white bandage that was visible through the neck of Quatre's bulky sweater.

Quatre reached and hand back to touch the bandage and winced.

"No…I was a little too…vigorous with the wash cloth."

"I see."

'He doesn't see. He doesn't see at all. He thinks you're a liar.' 

"Do you have a lot of stress in your life, Mr. Winner? Any problems at home lately?"

__

/No. He doesn't think I'm a liar. He thinks I'm CRAZY. A fucking nut case…/

"No. I have no problems at home."

"But there is some stress?"

"I…yes, there is stress."

"More then usual?"

"…maybe."

"Mr. Winner, I'm going to talk with my people one more time and then you can tell me your story again, okay?"

'How many times will I have to tell it? How many times do I have to relive this? What if I really am just going crazy? Nothing showed up on the tape. I'm probably delusional, imagined the whole thing. What if it never happened? Shouldn't I feel better then? But why do I hurt so much inside if it never happened? Why do I see his face…I just want to go home. Somebody please take me home.' 

When the detective came back a third time, Quatre was ready to tell him anything he wanted in order to get out of that room, in order to see Trowa a return to his bed where he could just fall asleep forever and pretend that this was nothing more then a bad dream. He told his story again, shakily, with much less description. And when the detective asked again…

"Mr. Winner, are you absolutely certain that you didn't imagine this incident taking place. It's all right if you were confused. You're not going to get into any trouble if you tell the truth. I just don't want to have a unit out looking for this guy if there's a chance that it didn't really happen."

'Wasting their time. He just said it. I'm wasting their time with my sick delusions. He must think I'm some sort of troublemaker, only out for attention or something. There's no video proof; it didn't show up on tape. I'm so worthless, so selfish, why the hell am I here? What the hell am I doing here? Am I crazy? I must be. I must be crazy. Poor crazy Quatre. Poor delusional Quatre. Better cart him off to the funny farm before he accuses someone else of raping him. Am I sick? I must be sick, to imagine something like that. What kind of person am I? I just want to go home. I just want to go home and forget this. This never happened. It never happened and I want to go home now, please.' 

"It never happened."

"Excuse me?"

"It never happened. I imagined the whole thing. It never happened."

"So I can tell my people to stop looking for this guy?"

"…yes."

"All right," the detective said, looking pleased. "You did the right thing by telling us the truth. Don't worry, you're not going to get into any trouble. We're going to get you all the help you need."

/Yeah, psychiatric help./ 

'I just want to go home. Please?'

The man reached over and patted Quatre's hand, like he was a child that needed to be placated. Quatre said nothing, his face blank of all emotion. When the man left once more to turn the camera off, Quatre placed his head in his hands and cried, feeling more alone in that moment then he had ever felt in his entire life.

'OhGodohGodohGodohGod…' 

The room was silent. Quatre's tears made no sound. The sobs that shook his shoulders would not pull themselves from his body, from his throat. Quatre clutched the sweater that still held the scent of Trowa, the only thing keeping him from shutting completely down at the moment. He yanked the back of it over his head, hiding in the warm cocoon it provided for him. He knew he looked ridiculous like that.

But who would expect less from a mad man?


	12. Hey Jupiter

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.  
  
Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content.   
  


*  
  
HEY JUPITER  
  
No one's picking up the phone guess it's me and  
  
me and this little masochist is ready to confess all  
  
the things that I never thought that she could feel  
  
and hey Jupiter nothings been the same so are you  
  
gay are you blue thought we both could use a friend  
  
to run to and I thought you'd see with me you  
  
wouldn't have to be something new sometimes I  
  
breathe you in and I know you know and sometimes  
  
you take a swim found your writing on my wall if my  
  
hearts soaking wet Boy your boots can leave a  
  
mess hey Jupiter nothings been the same so are  
  
you gay are you blue thought we both could use a  
  
friend to run to and I thought I wouldn't have to keep  
  
with you hiding thought I knew myself so well all the  
  
dolls I had took my leather off the shelf your  
  
apocalypse was fab for a girl who couldn't choose  
  
between the shower or the bath and I thought I  
  
wouldn't have to be with you a magazine no one's  
  
picking up the phone guess it's clear he's gone and  
  
this little masochist is lifting up her dress guess I  
  
thought I could never feel the things I feel  
  
hey Jupiter

Tori Amos  
  
*

  
  
Bleeding On the Inside - Chapter 11 - Hey Jupiter  
  
  
  
Trowa stared at the closed door, willing it to open. The detective had already been in and out of that room several times now but when Trowa had cornered him he had refused to let Trowa go in and see Quatre. In Trowa's opinion the statement was taking far too long, seeing as it was already night outside and according to Duo and Heero, Quatre had not eaten since early that morning.  
  
'What's taking so long?' he wondered. 'It should be finished by now. I can feel something's wrong. Quatre, Quatre I hear you crying again. What's wrong? Oh God please.'_  
_  
"Trowa?"  
  
The brunette looked up to find a worried looking Wufei staring down at him. Trowa gave him a small smile but that quickly vanished once he saw the purplish bruise on the boy's left cheek.  
  
"Wufei…I can't apologize enough for what I've done-"  
  
"Don't worry about it," the boy said. "I'm just glad you came back."  
  
"Yes." Trowa murmured, looking down at the tightly clenched hands in his lap. "Although I'm wondering if it did any good."  
  
"How can you say that?" Duo piped up, coming to stand near the two other boys, fire flashing in his eyes. "You saw the look on Quatre's face when you two hugged. Of course it did him good!"  
  
Trowa sighed and shook his head sadly.  
  
"Maybe now, but after the shock wears off it will be different. He might not want me around and I wouldn't blame him for it. I know how these things go."  
  
"About that," Duo said, hesitantly. "Did you mean that…I mean, have you…do you want to talk about…it?"  
  
Trowa shook his head, a sad smile on his face.  
  
"It's all past and done, I can't change it. Right now we should be concentrating on making Quatre feel better," he said.  
  
"Oh," Duo replied, looking away.  
  
Trowa observed him for a few moments before reaching out a hand to clasp the cold, slender fingers.  
  
"But I promise to tell all of you…one day."  
  
Duo smiled back and nodded, squeezing Trowa's hand for a moment before letting go and returning to Heero's side. Wufei glanced at the still closed door and scowled, looking around the small office irritably.  
  
"What is taking so long? They can't still be talking," he grumbled.  
  
"I don't know," was Trowa's soft reply. "I just don't know."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Quatre heard the door open and close again and he sighed before leaving the cocoon of Trowa's sweater, forcing himself to look once more into the eyes of a man who thought he was a lunatic. He shivered as that steely gaze floated over him once more, leaving more naked then if he was stripped to the bone.  
  
"Mr. Winner, I have called off the investigation. It's all right; nobody is going to punish you. We all feel stress and depression at some time in our lives. I have here the name of a very good psychiatrist. She works with children and teenagers like yourself. Here's her card." 

The man reached over and handed a small, white business card to the trembling boy. Quatre looked at the neat, gold lettering and felt like ripping the thing to shreds and throwing it at the man.  
  
'I AM NOT CRAZY!!!' he screamed inside his head, while another part of him snickered obscenely.  
  
/Now you know why father never loved you. It must have been very hard on him, having a mad man for a son./  
  
'SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP'  
  
/You can scream all you like. It won't change the facts. Don't worry, Trowa will visit you on the funny farm./  
  
'…Trowa. Oh God.'  
  
"Mr. Winner are you listening to me?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Good. Your friends are waiting outside to take you home. I suggest you get a good night's rest and call the number on the back of that card in the morning."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
/Time to face the music. I wonder, will Trowa hate you or pity you? Maybe he'll fear you. In any you're not fit to be a gundam pilot anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if Heero gave you a nice, quick death once he found out./  
  
'Maybe…that's what I want. Just to be silent forever.'  
  
"Mr. Winner, are you ready to come outside or do you wish you stay here for a few minutes?"  
  
Quatre's blue eyes were dull as he stared back at the man.  
  
"No," he said softly, "It's way past time to go."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Trowa started as the door he was watching so anxiously swung open and the detective emerged once more, this time with a pale and blank looking Quatre following behind.  
  
"Quatre!"  
  
Trowa leaped out of his chair and ran to the boy, watching the way his shoulders drooped as he tried to hide in his sweater. There was something very wrong here.  
  
"Quatre?" Trowa grasped the pale hands and brought them to his chest, looking into the boy's dead eyes. Trowa frowned. "What did you do to him?"  
  
"Mr. Winner has had a tiring day," the detective said condescendingly. "You should take him home and make sure he gets some rest. I have given him a card with the phone number of a very good clinic. If you call you can set up a free depression screening for him right away."  
  
"Quatre is not depressed," Duo growled dangerously, his eyes narrowing when he saw how Quatre flinched at the words.  
  
"Yes well…it was just a suggestion," the man said. "Do whatever you feel is best."  
  
"Well will," Duo replied, more then a hint of dismissal in his voice.  
  
"Then I leave him to you," the detective said, turning to walk away.  
  
"Wait!" Heero called. "What about the investigation? When will they make the arrest?"  
  
The man paused and glanced at the blond boy who turned his eyes away and buried his head in Trowa's arms.  
  
"That information is confidential, I'm afraid. If Quatre wants to discuss the case with you, that's fine. But he is of legal age and therefore protected under our privacy oath."  
  
Heero looked like he wanted to say something more but Trowa cut in before he could voice the words.  
  
"That's fine. We'll be going now. Come on, Quatre. Let's get you home."  
  
Quatre held on tightly to Trowa's hand, feeling guilty for letting Trowa be so protective of him when he was little more then a lying crazy person. But the warmth of his touch was so safe, so nice…he just couldn't give that up. Not yet.  
  
'Just one more moment, let me be sheltered by his love. I need something to keep with me after...after...'  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
The blond Arabian blinked his eyes, startled. They were home. How could they have driven there so quickly? Quatre couldn't even remember getting in the car.  
  
'Oh God am I losing it again? Got to keep a hold of myself just a little longer.'  
  
"Quatre, come on inside," Trowa urged, tugging gently at the boy's hand.  
  
Quatre complied silently, getting out of the car and clinging to Trowa's side as they walked up the driveway. Duo ran ahead to open the door while Wufei and Heero followed behind, as if they were bodyguards, protecting precious cargo.  
  
Once inside, things seemed to happen quickly. Quatre was eased onto the couch with a thick blanket tucked around his small body and a warm mug of chicken soup was thrust into his hands. Quatre sipped at the soup, needing the warmth it offered. Plus it gave him an excuse not to look into Trowa's worried eyes. The other pilots gathered around and waited patiently until Quatre finished the entire bowl of soup. Quatre fingered the spoon regretfully, waiting for the inquisition to begin. He did not have to wait long.  
  
"Do you want to tell us what happened?"  
  
Quatre heard the hidden reassurance in Trowa's voice. He would not force him to tell, but Quatre knew that guilt would kill him if he did not reveal his horrible secret. He nodded, slowly.  
  
"I…was out with the Maguanacs. I ran away from them. I just wanted some time to myself for once."  
  
Trowa nodded, recalling how Quatre rarely had a private moment to himself. It was understandable that the boy should want to get away. But oh, the consequences of that action.  
  
"I went into this store. Cadmy's Clothing Store. It was empty except for...except...there was this clerk. I should have known something was wrong!! I should have known! I was so stupid."  
  
"No you're not," Duo whispered. "No you're not."  
  
"Shh." Trowa soothed, slipping an arm around Quatre's shoulders. "Go on now. It's all right."  
  
Quatre hiccupped and moved closer to Trowa's body, cherishing the last contact he would have with the man he loved.  
  
"He...I was changing and he burst in on me once and I tried to ignore it. But afterwards, the second time."  
  
Tears slipped down Quatre's cheeks as he whispered, "…the second time…he hurt me."  
  
Trowa's hold tightened and he began to rock the boy back in forth like a small child.  
  
"There now, it's all right. You're safe now. It's all right," he murmured.  
  
But Quatre pushed away, forcing himself to look into those piercing emerald eyes.  
  
"It's not all right," he said. "It's not all right. Because I'm crazy. It never happened."  
  
"What?" A frown appeared on Duo's face as the boy tried to puzzle out what Quatre was saying. "What are you saying? Of course it happened! I saw you! You were bleeding!"  
  
Quatre shook his head furiously. "No, no, I must have done that to myself. You see...there were video cameras in the change rooms. The police saw the tapes. Nothing showed up. It never happened."  
  
Trowa's eyes widened with shock and his hands fell numbly to his sides.  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
"I'm sorry!" the boy sobbed, hugging himself miserably. "I didn't mean to cause trouble! I know I'm a liability now. I'll leave right away. I don't mind if you never want to see me again. I'm so sorry Trowa."  
  
"But...Quatre I know you're not crazy. Maybe the camera in your stall wasn't switched on or something?" Duo suggested.  
  
Quatre shook his head. "No, they said that the stall I was in was under video surveillance. They looked at all the tapes. Nothing showed up."  
  
Heero stepped forward, a frown on his face.  
  
"Quatre, the police told you that those change rooms had video surveillance?" he asked.  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
Heero's frown grew deeper.  
  
"But I already checked the layout and security system of the store. My research shows that there were no video cameras inside the change rooms. At the front door, yes, but not in the change rooms. It's illegal to have surveillance tapes in places where people are changing in this country."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"I'll check again," Heero said, fetching his laptop, "but I'm fairly certain that there were no surveillance tapes in those change rooms. Here, give me a minute."  
  
The Japanese boy's fingers flew over the keyboard as he retraced his steps, hacking into the store's files and the layout of Cadmy's security system. After a few minutes he turned the screen towards Quatre.  
  
"See?" he said. "There were no video cameras in the change rooms. None at all."  
  
Quatre's face drained of all colour. Shock painted his features and his hands trembled as he reached them out to touch the laptop screen.  
  
"But…that means that."  
  
"They lied," Duo said, a dark scowl on his face. Heero nodded, his own mouth twisted into a look of pure fury.  
  
"But why?" Quatre whispered, his confused mind not willing to grasp this concept. "Why would they lie?"  
  
"I don't know," Trowa said, his words clipped and cold. "But I'm going to find out."  



	13. Icicle

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content, masturbation. Religion, again, although a bit more offensive a view then last time. Anyone with strong Catholic views should be wary. 

*

ICICLE

Icicle Icicle where are you going

I have a hiding place when spring marches in

will you keep watch for me

I hear them calling

gonna lay down

gonna lay down

greeting the monster in our Easter dresses

Father says bow your head like the Good Book says

well I think the Good Book is missing some pages

gonna lay down

gonna lay down

and when my hand touches myself

I can finally rest my head

and when they say take from his body

I think I'll take from mine instead

getting Off Getting Off while they're all downstairs

singing prayers sing away he's in my pumpkin p.j's

lay your book on my chest

feel the word

feel the word

feel the word

feel it

I could have

I should have

I could have flown

you know I could have

I should have

I didn't so

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 12 – Icicle

"I'm going with you," Wufei said, looking for all the world like he wanted to kill something then and there. Trowa found himself surprised at the venom in his voice, but then again, out of all of them Wufei was the one who believed most in the justice system and would therefore feel all the more incensed to find out what was going on. 

Both Heero and Duo nodded like they wanted to come as well but Quatre clutched at Duo's sleeve and whispered, "You're not going to leave me alone here are you?" 

Duo bit his lip and shook his head, bending down until his face was level with Quatre's. 

"Don't worry Q. I'm not leaving you. We'll send Trowa and Wu down to find out what the hell's going on and maybe Heero can pop down to the store and take a look…" 

Heero nodded and stood up abruptly, pausing when he heard Quatre's stifled whimper. 

"Be careful," the boy said, refusing to look anywhere but at the floor, his arms clasped around his body in a fierce self-embrace. "Don't…just be careful Heero." 

"Don't worry," Duo said, forcing a cheerful grin. "Hee-chan won't do anything stupid and rash, will ya Hee-chan?" 

But there was a strange glint in Duo's eye, a similar look of fear and worry for his lover that he couldn't quite contain. Heero saw this and nodded, making sure to keep his expression blank. If Duo knew that Heero could sense his fear he would be sure to retreat further into a shell that Heero had been able to crack only recently. Respect was something that Duo prized above all else. He would not accept sympathy, even from his lover, even when it was well deserved. That was just how Duo was. Sometimes Heero thought that he had more pride then Wufei.

"I will be careful," he said, looking Duo straight in the eyes, letting him see the confidence and surety he wished to pass onto the worried boy. "I will be back shortly, I promise."

With that, the three boys departed the house, each focused on their mission for the truth. Quatre and Duo watched them go, watched from the window and stood silently near each other, watched with the fear still bubbling too close to the surface to let them feel any sense of reassurance.

Quatre stood at the window long after the car faded from view, hands clasped in a death grip around his arms. His face was blank and tired dead eyes stared outside at nothing in particular, just staring…trance-like…lifeless.

Duo couldn't stand it any longer. He put a hand on Quatre's arm and led him away from the window and back to his room. The blonde boy made no protest, no sound as he was tucked into his bed once more, and when Duo handed him another capsule to take he swallowed it without a murmur, and when Duo told him to sleep, Quatre closed his eyes and slept, or at least pretended to. 

He looked like a doll, lying there with his flaxen hair spread out over the pillow, his lips tightly closed as if keeping secrets he wished to stop from slipping out while he slept, his small body curled in on itself in a near fetal position, hands fisted into tight balls. The posture was almost too much for Duo to bear as he smoothed the stray locks back from Quatre's forehead, whispering some words of comfort before the tears escaped him and he had to leave the room, lest he disturb the boy with his sobs.

Quatre, who was deep within the drug-hazed reaches of sleep, felt a stir of something in his soul, a tendril of sorrow and guilt that his empathetic abilities has picked up from Duo, but his mind, deciding that it had experienced more emotion in these past two days then it could possibly react to, quickly squelched the feeling and locked it away. The burn of pain and shudder of confusion were effectively iced over in a numbness that even the most patient would find difficult to break through. Yes, for the first time in what seemed like ages, Quatre felt fine, simply because of the fact that he _could not feel_.

__

All better, his mind soothed, _it will be all better now_.

And Quatre believed, because it was the only thing he could do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Duo climbed the stairs leading to the attic, feeling the need to get away, to get as high above this chaos as he possibly could. The musty smell that seemed to reside in all attics surrounded him and he almost choked on the dust that rose to cloud around him when he sank onto the hard wooden floor, listening through the cracks to Quatre's breathing below, listening to his own shaky breathing. One hand caressed the small silver cross at his throat as he allowed the memories to overcome him. It was ironic really, that he should wear a symbol of everlasting life around his neck, when in actuality, all he ever brought people was death.

'I don't even believe in God,' he thought to himself with an amused sort of bitterness. 'And I don't think I ever did, as much as Father Maxwell tried to convince me that there was such a thing. I could have spared him the trouble, told him not to bother trying to save my soul. I think sometimes we both knew I never had one…'

__

~ flashback ~

"Let us all bow our head in prayer…"

Duo watched through the cracks between the wooden planks in the ceiling as Father Maxwell started Sunday Mass. For a moment, he felt a flash of guilt for hiding up in the rafters instead of being down there with all the other orphans, sitting in a crowded lump beside Sister Helen in their best outfits, trying hard to be still and quiet so that the rest of the world would see what good little children they were. But Duo shoved this feeling aside quickly. He hated Sunday Mass and getting dressed up in uncomfortable clothes, having to sit through a boring lecture about a God he didn't believe in, and having to be on his best behavior for the other people who attended the church. He especially hated the period after the sermon where he and the other orphans would trotted out onto the platform like cattle and displayed in the hopes that someone might want to adopt them. 

'No one wants me,' Duo thought to himself. 'So it's useless to even try. The only time someone wants to adopt me is because they think I'm pretty enough to warrant a good fuck.'

It was true that the few times Duo had been adopted, either one or both of his new "parents" had tried to rape him, but Duo had learned some things since Solo's sacrifice and a quick knife to the ribs changed the would-be attackers' minds pretty quickly about keeping him around. Of course, everything was covered up and the reasons for sending Duo back to the church were often fabricated. Duo never told anyone about these incidents simply because he didn't believe that anyone else would care.

Words floated up through the rafters, and Duo listened to the flowing words of the simple Latin prayers, sung in sweet harmony. The soft chords of the organ echoed beneath him and Duo stretched out on the floor, wanting to feel the vibrations of the sound traveling through him. This was the only part of Sunday Mass that he liked, the voices of the people raised in song. Somehow, the beauty of the hymns seemed to convey a comfort and power that the hard words Father Maxwell read from the big black bible in front of him could not. These songs were the closest Duo could get to grace and he knew it.

Carefully he listened for the sweet soprano of Sister Helen, rising above the other voices like birdsong. If he tried hard enough he could almost make out Father Maxwell's gruff tenor wavering slightly in his old age. And below that, the childish chanting of the orphans in the front row, trying not to muddle the archaic language too badly. 

Through the cracks, Duo could see his own brood; the members of Solo's gang, or rather, his gang gathered together in a tight group. It was one of the things Duo had impressed upon them: safety in numbers. You can't do to twenty kids what you can do to two. 

Duo watched as the singing stopped and communion began. He watched as the children lined up single file to receive the bit of grape juice and tablet from the priest. He watched as one by one, the children turned to the rest of the congregation and looked into the faces of those who pitied them, nervously trying to convince themselves that the Lord wanted them at least, even if nobody else did. Duo watched Father Maxwell pray for the children, and then he could watch no more, knowing what would come next.

__

Ave Maria 

The organ once again flared to life, but the vibrant chords did not bring the same joy that they did before. Duo fell back against the floor, seeing, in his mind, the children lining up once more, in rows this time, paraded out in front of the crowd for market. The warbling of one more hymn rose up through the rafters, the voices of the children in semi-harmony…it was enough to make tears prick the corner of Duo's eyes.

But boys didn't cry, so Duo calmed the emotions raging within him by reaching inside the waist of his pants and stroking his small, child's member, trying to quell the despair he felt with brief pleasure, trying to push back the fear that waited on the edges of consciousness, while at the same time, spiting the God he didn't believe in with such an obvious sin right in such a sacred place. 

__

Gratia plena

And when the organ swelled and pulsed, Duo did the same. His small body twisting and arching in rhythm.

__

Dominus tecum 

And when the children's voices rose in climax, Duo let his own groan of sweet music fall from his lips, muffled by the arm he slung across his mouth.

__

Benedicta tu in mulieribus

And when the rush was over, Duo's hand fell limply at his side as he took in the silence. His breathing hitched and caught but at least this time, he could tell himself it was with passion and exhaustion.

__

Et benedictus fructus ventris

Tuae, Jesu

And when a single tear rolled down his cheek, Duo could tell himself that it was due to his climax and not these other feelings that roiled inside of him. It did not matter anyway. Release was release, no matter how it came.

__

Sancta Maria

Mater Dei

Duo listened, flat on his back, while the church cleared of people below. He heard the soft whispers of ladies' skirts and faint tapping of men's shoes as the pews emptied once more. His hand was sticky and cool next to his heated skin. He wished for holy water to wash with but decided that the tissues in his pocket would do just as well for now.

__

Ora pro nobis peccatoribus

Peeking once more down below, Duo caught sight of Father Maxwell kneeling in front of the huge glass-stained window which displayed the virgin Mary holding her crucified son in her arms. Duo watched as Father Maxwell prayed, feeling like a pervert intruding on a private moment. 

__

Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae

He was about to leave when he saw a group of men walk up behind the priest. Duo listened to them exchange angry words with each other. And then he saw one of them knock Father Maxwell to the floor. 

__

Amen.

And then he knew nothing except rage as his footsteps pummeled down the stairs, all the emotions he felt before lost in a hazy wash of red over his eyes.

It would be the last time Duo would ever hear Sunday Mass from Father Maxwell's lips. 

__

~ flashback ~

Duo's hand tightened around his cross as he rocked back and forth, and endless litany of guilt and apology flowing from his lips.

__

Mea culpa

Mea culpa

Mea maxima culpa

'I'm sorry, so sorry, it was all my fault. I know I'll never be clean, but can't you forgive me? Can't you…?'

Duo cried and his tears soaked the fabric of his shirt like blood. He knew what redemption was. He'd just never felt it. 


	14. Merman

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content, child abuse, might be triggering. Please don't read unless you feel safe.

*

MERMAN

Go to bed, the priests are dead, now no one can call you bad

Go to bed the priests are dead, finally you're in peppermint land

He's a Merman, he doesn't need your voice, He's a Merman, go to bed, 

dream instead and you will find him

He's a Merman, eternally, doesn't need something you're not willing to give

He's a Merman, Doesn't need your voice to cross his lands of ice

Go to bed, the priests are dead, now no one can call you bad

Go to bed, the priests are dead, finally you found him la la la

Who could ever say you're not simply wonderful

Who could ever harm you

Sleep now, you're my little girl

Go to bed the priests are dead and go singing low again, go to the bed past the apple orchard and you'll feel nice

Two can play I said two can play

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 13 – Merman

In his dream world Quatre chased after butterflies. The world was simple in gold and blue. Sky and field. The wind was warm against his chest. He laughed and reached out his hands, the small winged creatures flitting between his fingers like bits of brightly coloured paper. Red, green, violet and blue. Such innocence was here, such freedom. Here he could run and jump and play. Here he could sing and dance and twirl. Here there was nobody but him, nobody…

But there was something, something that fluttered like a shadow at the corner of his vision that he could never keep sight of, something of a darker shade. It smelt of fear, but that was impossible: there was nobody here, nobody but him. Nothing should scare him here. He could not explain this shadow. 

So Quatre did what any child would do with something he could not explain. He ignored it and continued chasing the butterflies, marveling at how they always seemed to keep just out of his reach. A happy giggle escaped from Quatre's mouth as he reached up once more to make a grab at the butterflies dancing above his face. But something different happened this time. This time they weren't quick enough, couldn't get away. This time Quatre's hand closed in a fist around one hapless victim, closing tight and crushing the delicate wings, quite by accident. 

All of Quatre's gaiety fell apart as he looked at his closed fist, eyes wide with horror. The shadow at his side seemed to flicker and fuse with his being for an instant. He stood very still, as if afraid to move. 

"Oh…no…what have I done?" Quatre gasped, feeling a dull roar fill his ears, like he was by the ocean. His head felt thick like it was stuffed with cotton. Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened his hand, watching as the particles of white dust fell from his palm and were picked up by the wind and tossed on the air. The other butterflies crowded around him, attaching themselves to him as if they wished to punish him for destroying their brethren. Their wings beat furiously against his skin. Their long spidery legs curled around his clothes. Their mouths bent as if to suck the blood from his body. Quatre screamed and waved his arms, trying to make them leave but they refused to be detached. He felt one of them cling to the back of his neck and sobbed, suddenly more afraid of these small insects then the shadow which was now hovering above him, waiting…

"Please," he whimpered, "please let me go. I'll be a good boy, I promise. I'll be good. I didn't mean to. Please let me go."

Butterflies, everywhere…covering him. He threw himself to the ground and rolled in an attempt to crush them but more came, surrounding him, suffocating him. Their wings thrummed and buzzed as they moved, the sound of it echoing in his ears even when the rest of the world seemed to go dead silent. Quatre open his mouth to scream and quickly found it filled with wings and legs and a small furry body. His eyes, forever captured in a wide cerulean stare, were the only part of his body left uncovered by the multitude of shimmering creatures. He saw the shadow above him form a figure…and the figure formed a face. And then his world plunged into darkness once more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Duo was still sitting in the attic when he heard the doorbell ring. It took him a few moments to identify the sound…normally the only people who knew that the gundam pilots were there were the gundam pilots themselves. And they didn't need to ring the doorbell. 

'So it's either a salesman or OZ and OZ would probably just shoot their way in so that leaves me with option A. Maybe I'll just ignore it.'

After a few minutes the doorbell rang again…and again…and again…until Duo got sick of hearing the two-toned bell and stomped downstairs, ready to kill whatever unlucky vacuum salesman or Jehovah's Witness was being so damned insistent. 

But upon opening the door, gun in hand, Duo did not find any solicitor, but rather a very familiar face.

"Hi Duo."

"Relena?! What the hell are you _doing_ here?"

The girl before him bit her lip and looked around nervously. "Actually I needed to tell all of you something. Can we go inside? I don't want anyone to recognize me."

"What's wrong?" Duo teased, even as he beckoned the young woman inside, "Afraid that someone will see the Queen of the World slumming it in this little nothing village?"

"No, I just don't want some yuppie thinking he can kidnap me just because I don't have any bodyguards with me," she replied, stepping into the front hallway.

Duo closed the door behind him and swung around, eyes wide. "You mean you wandered out here by yourself? How did you find us anyway? This location was kept top secret."

"Dr. J told me where I could find you. I knew you were going to be in this general area anyway. The Alliance/OZ Peace Talks are being held very near here. I just had to confirm which house," Relena replied glibly, looking at her surroundings with vague interest. The house was small but tastefully decorated and appeared to be very old. It was definitely not the worst safe house the pilots had ever been in.

Duo frowned, unhappy with the fact that nearly anybody could find out where he was staying. He would have to tell Heero to cover his tracks a little better.

"What did you want to tell us?" he asked, sounding a bit impatient.

Relena sighed and folded her hands in front of her. "I understand that your mission will include infiltrating these peace talks and searching for OZ activity."

Duo nodded. "We're pretty certain these talks are just a cover for something else."

"Even so," Relena continued, "I want you to promise me that you won't do anything until it's confirmed that OZ does not really want peace."

"What?! Relena, of _course_ they don't want peace! They're the ones that started this war in the first place—" 

"Just hear me out," Relena interrupted, causing Duo to fall silent. "Look I know it must seem suspicious to you but we can't just assume that OZ is lying about the bid for peace. There is still a way that this war might cease without more bloodshed."

Duo looked doubtful.

"Just wait until you're sure," Relena pleaded. "Won't you Duo?"

Duo sighed and brushed the bangs away from his face with a sigh. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to Heero about it for ya. But I don't think he'll be too happy with the idea."

"Thanks Duo." Relena smiled and embraced the boy impulsively. Duo stiffened in her arms. Relena felt this and broke the contact immediately, looking closely at the braided boy's face for the first time since he opened the door. She observed the red-rimmed eyes and slight puffiness of his cheeks, the way he held himself tensely, as if he was restraining himself from running away.

"Duo…are you all right?" she asked.

Duo looked startled. "Of course," he said. "Everything is fine. Why'd you ask?"

"You look like you've been crying," she replied, softly.

Furiously, Duo wiped a hand across his cheeks, as if he could hide their swollen redness by willing it away. "I'm _fine_," he hissed.

Relena shook her head. "You don't look fine," she insisted.

Duo opened his mouth to argue once more but a piercing scream from above cut him off. "Shit! Quatre…" 

He ignored Relena's questions and fled up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Inside his head an endless litany of curses sounded.

'Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.'

Racing down the hallway, Duo nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get to the now whimpering boy. Reaching the room, he yanked open the door and launched himself inside, coming to kneel instantly by Quatre's bed where the blond boy was writhing and clutching the bedclothes, sobbing in his sleep, his eyes shut tight.

Duo shook his shoulder lightly and called to him, hoping his voice sounded soothing and not panicked and frightened like he felt.

"Quatre…Quatre, wake up. You're dreaming. Wake up."

The blonde's eyes shot open and he gasped, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. Frantically, Quatre bolted upright and grabbed for the nearest thing, which happened to be Duo. With a mewled cry, Quatre buried his face in Duo's chest, clawing at the fabric of his shirt in blind panic. Duo rubbed the boy's back in slow circles, murmuring words of comfort like one would to a wounded animal about to attack. 

"It's okay. It's okay. You were dreaming that's all. It's gonna be okay." 

"Everything is fine, huh."

Duo's head turned to the doorway where Relena stood, her pretty face twisted into a concerned frown. He winced.

"Go away," he ordered, wishing that the others would return. He couldn't deal with all this by himself. He couldn't deal…

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on here Duo Maxwell," Relena retorted, coming over to stand by Quatre's bed. The boy shuddering within the confines of Duo's embrace did not seem to notice her at all. His eyes were wide and vacant and Relena had a feeling that she knew that look all too well. "What's wrong with Quatre."

"He had a bad dream, okay? We all do sometimes. It come from fighting in a war, Princess."

"You're lying."

"I don't lie."

"But you stretch the truth until it might as well be a lie."

"Why don't you just go away!"

"S-stop fighting."

The arguing parties silenced immediately at the soft plea from the blond on the bed. Quatre's had let go of Duo's shirt and was now sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, his face carefully blank and expressionless. His mouth formed a hard white line across his face and his hands never quite came into contact with his own body, like he was afraid he might fade away if he touched his own flesh. Relena saw the look, recognized it, and felt her heart constrict painfully. Yes, she knew this. She knew this well.

"Quatre…what happened to you?"

"You don't have to tell her if you don't want to," Duo reassured, glaring at Relena while simultaneously trying to look comforting and competent even if he felt anything but.

Quatre sat silently for a few moments, debating with himself. What would he gain by telling? Maybe she, like the detective, would think him insane, delusional, hysteric. Maybe she would think he deserved it. Maybe she would scorn him.

'But…this is Relena. She doesn't seem like the type to do that. And I…want to tell someone. I want someone else to believe me. I want someone else to know. Trowa and the others…they might be lying when they say they believe me, because they're my friends. Relena wouldn't lie to me. I want to know.'

"It's okay Duo," Quatre said, gesturing for Relena to sit down. Surprisingly, she chose to sit in the chair across from them instead of next to Quatre on the bed. Maybe she felt he needed some distance to feel comfortable. Maybe it was Relena who needed the distance. "I can tell her."

"Do you want me to stay here?" Duo asked, feeling a bit nervous. He wanted to stay by Quatre's side and yet…he didn't want to hear the story again, not so soon with memories of his own threatening to overtake him. Quatre saw his discomfort and understood.

"It's okay. I can talk to her alone. It's just Relena," Quatre said, sounding a lot more sure then he felt.

So Duo retreated from the room, feeling a bit like a betrayer, but with a sense of relief that left him breathless with guilt. Sliding to the floor just outside the bedroom door, Duo leaned against the wall and waited. It was all he could do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I don't know where to start," Quatre confessed, his nervousness growing with each second.

"It's okay," Relena assured, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were talking to a very small child. "Just tell me what you feel comfortable with."

"I…" Quatre twisted the bed sheets around one finger, watching as the tip turned red…then white…and then blue…

"Quatre." A hand suddenly came down and tugged the sheet out of his grasp. The blood returned to his finger with a rosy blush and Quatre watched it, fascinated.

"Quatre." Relena's face was close now, leaning over him. Her eyes were wide and knowing. Her mouth was so sad…

'She knows.'

"Quatre…did somebody…hurt you?"

A nod.

"Did they…touch you?"

Another nod. 

"Quatre…did they rape you?"

Silence.

"Quatre?"

Silence.

"Please answer me. Did they rape you?"

He nodded once more, a sob escaping his throat before he could properly stifle it. His shoulders shook with the effort. Relena moved forward, reaching but not quite touching.

"Quatre," she asked, her voice still soft and gentle, "may I hug you?"

He thought about it. Considered it. His head nodded without his permission. She eased her arms around him, enfolding him with a light touch, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. Her embrace was so different, so unlike Duo's tight hold of fierce protectiveness and Trowa's passionate caresses. He found that he didn't know what to do, so he stayed still, concentrating on breathing in and out.

"It's okay," Relena whispered in his ear. "I believe you. I believe you."

And something in Quatre broke. His eyes filled with hot tears and he started to shake in her arms. It was just so good to hear those words. He had needed to hear those words.

"It's okay," she murmured, rocking him back and forth slightly. "I believe you and I'm so sorry that this happened to you Quatre. Don't be ashamed to cry. It wasn't your fault."

"It was."

She pulled away, her eyes fierce. "How? How was this your fault?"

"I…" his voice quivered and shook. He had to take a few deep breaths before continuing. "I shouldn't have gone off alone. I wasn't wearing anything except my underwear when he saw me. And when he…I didn't say anything. I didn't fight or anything. I didn't say 'no'. It was my fault."

"Bullshit."

Quatre looked shocked to hear such language fall from the young princess' mouth. She looked dead serious though.

"Quatre," she said, "it doesn't matter if you were alone. It doesn't matter that you weren't wearing anything but underwear. You could have been tap dancing naked in the middle of Times Square and it still wouldn't have given anybody the right to touch you. Do you understand?"

"I didn't say 'no'," the boy whispered, his eyes taking on a haunted look.

Relena caught his chin in her hand and lifted his head until he was looking into her eyes. She saw the shame buried in those cerulean depths and winced.

"Listen to me. Silence means 'no.' Crying means 'no'. You may not have said anything Quatre but you did not consent. It was rape. It wasn't your fault."

He listened, watched her. He wanted to believe so badly but something kept screaming at him, telling him that he must have done something to warrant this horror. He must have done _something_ or else…or else…

Relena could see that she wasn't getting through to him. She sighed, leaning her head against his own, her eyes fixed on the wall in front of her.

"I'm going to tell you a story about a little girl who lived with her mommy and daddy in a big house in the city. This girl had many toys and dolls to play with. All very expensive things. She even had a mini-piano that played all by itself when she turned the key in the side. She had lots and lots of dresses, in every colour of the rainbow, and matching bows and clips for her hair. She had a silver tiara that she used to play princess with. 

"You see, this girl had an uncle named Uncle Brian except that he wasn't really her uncle. He was just a friend of her father's. But Uncle Brian liked to be called Uncle Brian and he would make her sit on his lap and sing him songs and he would tickle her and hug her every time he came over to the house. Uncle Brian was a very generous man. He would give the little girl presents whenever he saw her. Candy, toys, dollies, everything she could ever want. And at night Uncle Brian would come to the little girl's room and unbutton her nightgown. And she would pretend to be asleep while he stroked her chest, her small, not quite developed breasts, and she would wait for him to leave, all the while chanting nursery rhymes in her head or thinking about playing with her dolls. And when he left she would hide under the covers with her teddy bear and wonder what she could have done wrong to make Uncle Brian want to touch her. He was such a nice man. It must have been her fault. She must have been a bad girl so she couldn't tell mommy or daddy about Uncle Brian or she'd be punished. Bad girls weren't _nice_. 

"And then one night something different happened. The little girl didn't pretend to be asleep this time. She asked Uncle Brian what he was doing in her room. He told her that he was 'teaching' her how to be a woman, and didn't she want to grow up to be a good woman just like mommy? Besides, he had given her all these presents. Didn't he deserve something in return? And the little girl thought that it must be all right because adults are always right. So she stayed quiet while he undressed her once more and she laid still when he touched her bare skin. And when he exposed his 'thing' to her and asked her what she thought she told him that it was very nice. And when he asked her to touch it she did, all the while thinking that it looked very much like a worm, ugly and slimy and squishy all at once."

"But when he put it in her mouth the bad taste and the strange way it pulsed scared her very badly and she gagged and started to cry. Uncle Brian took it out and made her promise not to tell mommy because she would be very sad and left the little girl alone. Once or twice, the little girl tried to explain to her mother why she didn't want Uncle Brian to come over anymore. 'He's bad mummy,' she would explain. 'He's a bad man.' But mommy would just shake her head and say, 'I'm ashamed of you. Uncle Brian is our friend. You're acting very silly and not at all like a proper young lady.' And so the little girl would continue to keep her silence and endure those long nights when Uncle Brian stayed over until she was old enough to request that a lock be placed on her door. She never told anyone what had happened. In fact, until very recently she forgot all about Uncle Brian, only remembering glimpses in frightening dreams that seemed like they couldn't be real.

"Now the little girl never comes into contact with Uncle Brian again, but she hears things. She hears things like Uncle Brian has a wife and a cute little baby daughter and she wonders…does this baby daughter get presents every day? Does she pretend to be asleep at night and feel fingers on her skin? She wonders…"

Relena's voice trailed off and she stared silently at the wall, her face totally calm and blank. Quatre was watching her, his hands reaching up to clasp her own.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finding it strange to ask the question that he had been asked so many times these past few days.

Relena turned her eyes to him and he found that he could not look away. They _burned_ so intensely. They reminded him of Heero's eyes whenever he was focused on a mission.

"You don't have to tell me about fear. I know what that is. You don't have to explain to me about shame. I know what that is. You don't need to tell me about guilt. I know what that is. But don't ever tell me that you were to blame for what happened. Because I _know_ that it wasn't. I _know_ how wrong that is because I thought that many times before and it terrifies me, what he made me feel, what he is _still making me feel_ even though I haven't seen him for many many years. I didn't say 'no' either Quatre. Does that make it my fault?"

Quatre shook his head desperately, biting his lower lip to keep from sobbing out loud. 

"Why?" he whispered. And again, "_Why_?"

She didn't have to ask '_why what_?' Why everything? Why this? Why now? Why there? Why _him_? Just…why? 

"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I just don't know."

And so they cried together and outside the door Duo shed his own tears while at the same moment, around the world, every two minutes, another child cries tears of shame and suffers in silence while their innocence is stolen. And no one can explain why.


	15. Tear in Your Hand

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content, mention of child abuse, might be triggering. 

*

TEAR IN YOUR HAND

All the world just stopped now 

so you say you don't wanna stay together any more 

let me take a deep breath babe 

if you need me, me and Neil'll be hangin' out with the Dream King

Neil says hi by the way 

I don't believe you're leaving cause 

me and Charles Manson like the same ice cream 

I think it's that girl 

and I think there're pieces of me you've never seen 

maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen well

all the world is 

all I am 

the black of the the blackest ocean 

and that tear in your hand 

all the world is danglin' danglin' danglin' for me darlin 

you don't know the power that you have with that 

tear in your hand 

that tear in your hand

maybe I ain't used to

maybes smashing in a cold room

cutting my hands up

everytime I touch you

maybe it's time to wave goodbye now

time to wave goodbye now

caught a ride with the moon 

I know I know you well 

well better than I used to 

haze all clouded up my mind 

in the daze of the why it could've never been 

so you say and I say you know you're full of wish 

and your "baby baby baby babies"

I tell you there's pieces of me you've never seen 

maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen well

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 14 – Tear in Your Hand

Heero walked quicker then he normally would have, anxious to get back to Duo and Quatre. His trip to the store had told him nothing except what he already knew: that there were no surveillance cameras in the change rooms. In fact there were no surveillance cameras anywhere in that store. They had lied.

Kyle Whittenstaff was not present behind the counter and Heero was mildly disappointed at that. Even though Quatre had emphasized that he didn't want him killed, Heero would have liked to at least rough the man up a bit, castrate him maybe…

It _was_ interesting to talk with the manager of the store who swore to him that he had been there all day and that Kyle, a model employee, could never have done anything to hurt anyone. Particularly interesting, since he could tell from the button on his lapel that the manager and Kyle had the same last name.

__

'Even if he _had_ been there, it's doubtful this guy would incriminate his own relative. I hope Trowa and Wufei are having more luck at the police station.'

As he approached the safe house, Heero went over the events of the past few days, as if assuring himself that it was just some bizarre nightmare and any minute now he would wake up and demand to know what Duo had slipped into his food. But never, even under the influence of OZ's mind-warping drugs, had Heero ever imagined something so horrible happening to one of his team mates, someone he knew and regarded as a friend. 

'I'm supposed to protect them. I'm supposed to be the leader and I failed to protect one of my own.'

In the back of his mind a voice softly mocked him.

__

/That's not all of it, is it Heero?/

Heero growled and shook his head as if to clear it. He did not want to think about this now.

__

/Come now. Admit it. You're relieved. Deep down inside, you're relieved because it happened to Quatre and not to Duo./

'I would never—'
__

/Bullshit. Right now you're so scared by the fact that this someone could have done the exact same thing to Duo that you're not even thinking about Quatre./

"Shut up!"

People passing by looked up in surprise at Heero's sharp cry and the boy glared furiously at them and walked faster down the street. His conscience was silent for the rest of the way back, but he couldn't help the throb of guilt in his stomach or the icy grip of fear that had a hold on his heart. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre lifted his head from Relena's shoulder and sniffled tiredly, mumbling a 'thank you' when she handed him a tissue from her pocket. Once his nose was blown and his eyes were dry, Quatre felt a bit better, or at least, able to complete a sentence without crumbling. He shifted in Relena's hold and she let him go immediately, moving back a bit to allow him some space, while still placing a comforting hand on his arms. His smile was watery but grateful.

"Did you ever tell anyone else about…you know…" he asked, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Relena shook her head. "At times I think Dorothy suspects. She hears when I have nightmares, although she never presses me to tell her about them. At times I've wanted to just get it over with and shout it at her, but then I wonder how she would react and I get scared."

"I didn't think you were scared of anything," Quatre confessed, remembering how many times the pacifist princess had faced death or slander for her ideals. "You always seemed the strongest out of any of us."

Relena laughed bitterly and shook her head once more. "No, no. I was always scared: scared to voice my opinion, scared to stand up for myself. Did you know my Father was skipping out on my 15th birthday party and I couldn't even get up the courage to tell him that I wanted him to stay?"

"What changed?"

"I saw Heero," Relena stated. She saw Quatre's eyes begin to gloss over and the way he sucked in his breath nervously.

"Relena I have to tell you something about Heero. He's—"

"Not in love with me?"

Relena would have laughed at Quatre's shocked expression if the situation hadn't been so somber. As if was she couldn't quite hold back a smile.

"I know that. I've known that for a long time now."

Quatre frowned, puzzled. "Then why…"

Relena's gaze grew thoughtful and she twirled the string of pearls at her throat around her fingers as she talked.

"When I first saw Heero, I thought that he was dead. Except that when I approached him I found out that he wasn't dead at all. If you could have seen the way he looked at me…God, I think he must have been furious with himself for being caught looking vulnerable. With his hand covering his face, all I could see were his eyes, and that was enough to tell me that he was strong, stronger then anyone I had ever met.

"Once he figured out that his cover was blown, he tried to kill himself. Obviously he didn't succeed but at the time, I admired his actions. I wished I could have the courage to do the same thing."

Quatre eyes opened wide and he gasped. "W-what?"

"I'd never really thought of myself as important before. My own family seemed to brush me aside for their own busy worlds. And any friends I had were not real friends, just silly admirers hoping to benefit from the fact that my father was rich and well known. I was lonely but I was a coward who didn't want to take the final step.

"Heero's eyes promised to take that step for me. Such a strong person, I wanted death from him, I welcomed death from him. So I chased after him from school to school, country to country, in the hopes that he might kill me. And instead…he taught me to be strong."

Relena sighed and curled up beside Quatre on the bed, tucking her legs underneath her body in a way totally unbecoming a princess. 

"You see, Heero couldn't ever succeed in killing himself because he had a mission to complete, and ideal to protect. I admired that about him. And when I finally found out that I was a member of the Peacecraft family, I had an ideal to protect as well. It may not have been the best way, but at the time, it was all I had to hold onto. I'm not really strong at all. I'm just imitating a real life hero, if you'll excuse the horrible pun."

Quatre mulled this over in his mind, not sure if he was relieved to learn that Relena wasn't the perfect person everyone thought her to be, or slightly disappointed by the same fact. In the end he decided that it didn't really matter. Relena had found her salvation in pacifism. Heero had found his in Duo. And Quatre had Trowa…

'Trowa. You said you understood. Were you like this as well? Did you ever go out looking for death? Is that why you're so withdrawn now? So many questions. I wonder if I'll ever find answers for them.'

"Quatre?"

The blond boy looked up, shaken from his drifting thoughts. He gave Relena a small smile.

"I'm okay. I just needed to let it sink in a bit, that's all."

"Are you okay?" the girl asked, looking worried. For a moment he had looked so sad…

'And why shouldn't he be,' she thought angrily. 'He's just been through something horrible.'

"I'm fine," Quatre said, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and standing up, his legs slightly wobbly from lack of use and exhaustion. "I'd like to go downstairs, if you don't mind. I'm sick of this room."

Relena's eyes brightened and she smiled broadly. "Sure," she said. "I'll go get Duo and he can help me get you down stairs."

"I'm not an invalid," Quatre protested. "I can make it downstairs by myself."

He took a few shaky steps to prove this fact, still feeling the sluggish aftereffects of the codeine weighing down his limbs so that he felt like he was moving underwater. 

"I'm fine!" he insisted, blocking all of Relena's attempts to take his arm. With a defeated sigh, the princess of Sank let the blond Arab walk on his own, following close behind him should he choose to topple over at any given point.

Outside the room they found Duo, leaning against the hall a few doors down from Quatre's room. When he heard them approach the braided boy ran a hand over his suspiciously wet face and forced his mouth into a wide grin.

"Heya Q-man! Glad to see you up and about. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Uh…you too, princess?" he added as an afterthought. 

The pink-clad girl shook her head ruefully. "I've got to be going," she announced. "The ministers are expecting me at a conference at noon and if I don't get back soon, Dorothy will worry and send out search parties. I'm supposed to be walking in the gardens, not wandering all over town without an escort. Thank for the offer though, Duo."

Taking Quatre's hands, Relena pulled the boy into a quick hug, not minding the stares that she was getting from Duo. 

"Take care of yourself. Remember all I've told you," she whispered into Quatre's ear as she hugged him. 

"I'll remember," he promised, returning her embrace.

She smiled and let go, giving a brief curtsy before turning and walking to the door, only sparing one last wave before she was gone. Quatre smiled after her, his mind forming the words that his mouth could not.

'Relena…you are stronger then you realize. Thank you.' 


	16. Black Dove

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content, child abuse.

*

BLACK DOVE (JANUARY GIRL)

She was a January girl

she never let on how insane it was

in that tiny kinda scary house

by the woods

by the woods

by the woods

black-dove black-dove

you´re not a helicopter

you´re not a cop out either honey

black-dove black-dove

you don't need a space ship

they don't know you've already lived

on the other side of the galaxy

she had a january world

so many storms not right somehow

of how a lion becomes a mouse

by the woods

but i have to get to TEXAS

said i have to get to TEXAS

and I'll give away my blue blue dress

she had a january girl

she never let on how insane it was

in that tiny kinda scary house

by the woods

by the woods

by the woods

black-dove

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 15 – Black Dove

"What do you mean you can't tell me?" Trowa's hands slammed down on the counter as he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to hide the anger in his voice. The officer at the front desk glared at him and turned to speak with Wufei, who had managed to keep his composure thus far. 

"The details of Mr. Winner's statement are confidential, as is anything else regarding his case," she replied, her voice clipped and cold and utterly dismissive.

Trowa was about to speak again but Wufei cut in, afraid that his friend might say something that would be regretted later.

"What if Mr. Winner gave us permission to look at his files. Would that do?" he asked smoothly, only the faint trembling of his hand betraying his anxiety.

The officer nodded. "Yes, if Mr. Winner personally give his consent then you may look at his files, but he must come here in person, with identification, and request this action," she said.

"Thank you," Wufei replied, "we shall see to it that he does.' 

But Trowa wasn't quite finished yet.

"I'd also like to lodge a complaint about the detective that handled Quatre's statement," he said, his lip curling as if he would like to have that detective in front of him at that moment so he could punch him.

The officer blinked, looking surprised. "May I ask why?"

"He LIED to him!" Trowa cried, fury obvious in his blazing green eyes. "He told Quatre that they had video surveillance tapes of the change room he was in but there were no cameras. They lied to get him to change his statement!"

The officer bit her lip and glanced nervously down at her hands, as if unsure of how to handle the situation. The young man before her was obviously distraught and she didn't think he'd like to hear what she had to say on this subject.

"I know that you must feel angry," she said, "but technically, it _is_ legal for the interrogator to lie during questioning and statement taking to make sure that no false allegations are taking place."

This time it was Wufei who snapped.

"You mean they're actually ALLOWED to lie and coerce people to change their statements? That's absurd!" he cried.

"No," Trowa seethed. "It's bullshit. I'm taking this to court."

"I'm afraid you won't get very far Mr. Barton," said the officer. "By his own admission, Quatre confessed that he was imagining things, that the attack never happened. The case has been closed. There's nothing you can do."

Trowa's hands closed into fists and he had to take a moment to steady his breathing. His eyes burned holes in the floor as he fought for control. Beside him, Wufei swallowed hard, nausea making his stomach roil.

"This is a travesty of justice," he hissed. "How can you sit there and let a rapist walk free?"

Trowa leaned in and spoke in a soft, cold voice.

"If this is 'to serve and protect'," he said, spitting the words as if they tasted foul to him, "then God help us all."

He then grabbed Wufei by the arm and together they stalked out of the station, eager to get away from the oppressive, frustrating atmosphere given off by the setting. Wufei watched Trowa's face worriedly as they walked, hoping the boy would let out some of the anger he was feeling. But the stoic circus performer stayed silent and his eyes looked straight ahead, as if entirely focused on the road in front of them. Sighing, Wufei wondered just what they were going to tell Quatre when they got back to the house.

'I hope Heero has better luck at the store.'

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"So…"

Duo led Quatre to the couch in the living room and stood in front of him, hands clasped nervously as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

"Do ya want anything to eat? I can make toast. Or grilled cheese, even! That's just toast with cheese in the middle, right? Even I can't screw up that," Duo said, attempting a small joke.

Quatre smiled briefly but the small curvature of his lips disappeared all too quickly and Duo could not be certain that it happened.

"Actually I'm not really hungry," Quatre said.

Duo frowned. "Quatre," he warned. "You _need_ to eat—"

"I _know_!"

The shouted exclamation surprised both boys and Quatre winced a little at the harshness of his tone.

"Sorry Duo," he whispered, his eyes looking downwards. "It's just that it feels like I don't have control over anything anymore…"

Duo sat down beside him and stroked the fine golden hairs that covered his forehead.

"I know buddy," he whispered back, embracing his friend gently. "I know."

Quatre bit his lip, determined not to cry anymore. He's already wasted enough tears on this. He wasn't a baby. He was a Gundam pilot. And he could handle this, he could, he just had to…had to…

'What? Forget? I'll never be able to do that,' he thought, bitterly. 'Let's face it, my life's pretty much ruined now. I'm soiled. Damaged goods. I'm not Quatre anymore. I'm the boy who was raped.' 

Duo felt Quatre stiffening in his arms and he let go hastily, thinking that he had scared the boy.

'Way to go, Maxwell,' he berated himself. 'Just hug the guy who probably doesn't want to be touched. I'm such a dumbass bastard.'

"So uh…want to watch some t.v. Quat? There must be something on. We get fifty milllion channels," he grumbled, having already grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

"It's probably only something like five hundred channels," Quatre corrected, but he was grateful for the change in subject so he curled up by Duo's side and watched lazily as he flipped through the channels.

Finally they both agreed on the news, Quatre because he wanted to see the coverage of the OZ peace talks that were taking place in a few days, Duo because he wanted to see if he and Deathscythe had gotten on t.v. again. At first everything was normal. Duo was cracking jokes about the anchorman's obvious toupee and booing loudly at the picture of Lady Une that appeared on the screen when mention of the peace talks came up. Quatre was beginning to relax and let himself become distracted by the issues of the world. And then…

"In other news a mother is outraged by the decision of the Supreme Court to let convicted child molester Ogar Calthy off with a light sentence of three months in prison and two years probation. The 53 year old man confessed to molesting a young girl on numerous occasions over a three year period. The court was told that the accused exposed himself and then touched the girl inappropriately in his cabin a Tawirner Lake from A.C. 192 to 195. The victim was seven years old when the abuse occurred. The mother of the girl stormed out of the courtroom following the sentencing. When asked why the sentence was so light she replied that the Judge did not consider Calthy a 'risk to the community' and he showed 'true remorse' for his actions—" 

The screen faded to black as Duo frantically clawed at the button to turn the television off. Thick silence permeated the room. The tick-tick of the clock in the kitchen echoed loudly in Duo's ears. He turned to Quatre, a worried look on his face.

The boy sat still as stone, his eyes wide and teary, his breath hitched and labored. His hands were clenched into tight fists, knuckles turning white with the lack of circulation. Cautiously, Duo laid a hand on Quatre's shoulder.

"Quatre?"

The boy started, forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine."

Duo felt Quatre tremble under his hand, saw the haunted look in his eyes. "Quatre…"

"No really!" the Arabian insisted. "I'm fine. I'm okay. It's okay."

Something in Duo snapped at the moment. All the anger, all the helplessness, all the frustration and guilt he was feeling erupted. With a great heave he threw the remote control at the wall, shattering it into pieces.

"NO!" he exploded. "It's NOT okay! It's not OKAY! There's nothing okay about this! Nothing is FUCKING okay!! It's SHIT! SHIT! Damn it all to HELL!"

Cursing violently, Duo reached for one of the pillows on the couch and punched it soundly, over and over again, yelling hoarsely.

"Please…" Quatre whimpered, covering his ears against the shouting, "please Duo…"

"Eurrrrgh!" Duo screamed, giving one last vicious punch to the now ripped and battered pillow. Breathing heavily, Duo let out an anguished moan, his head bowing as he fought to repress his tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, his arms reaching around himself in a defensive gesture. "I'm sorry."

Quatre approached him slowly, his voice calm and soothing despite his own tears. 

"Duo…"

"What's going on here?"

Both heads looked up to see a familiar face in the doorway, his concerned blue eyes sweeping the scene.

"Heero," Quatre breathed, something like relief in his voice.

The Japanese boy saw the tears on both boys' faces and noticed the way Duo's shoulders shook minutely. He frowned.

"What happened? Duo?"

When that piercing stare landed on the braided pilot, he broke.

"Take care of Quatre for me, will you Hee-man," Duo said, brushing past the boy and running out of the room. 

"Duo wait!" Quatre cried, but he was already pounding up the stairs to the room he shared with Heero.

"What's going on, Quatre?" Heero asked, a bit frustrated and a lot worried.

The blond Arabian shook his head, unable to express in words what had just taken place. 

"You'd better go talk to him Heero."

"But what about you?"

"He needs you more then I do now. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not an invalid, I can manage for myself for a few moments," Quatre insisted wryly.

Heero nodded and went to follow Duo up the stairs. Quatre watched him go and sighed, wondering when Trowa and Wufei would get back, hoping it would be soon. After a few useless moments of standing still, he got out a garbage bag and started to pick the fragments of the remote control off of the floor, trying to keep his mind off of the conversation that was most certainly happening above him, in Duo and Heero's room. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Heero stopped just outside the closed door, listening to the muffled sounds coming from behind it. Duo hated for anyone to see him cry, especially Heero, and he didn't want to make the boy upset…

'Who are you kidding Yuy? He's already upset. Just go in and comfort your boyfriend already you fucking idiot.' 

Knocking briefly on the door, Heero swung it open and stepped inside. At first it appeared the room was empty, but when he walked a little further in, he could see that Duo was curled up on the floor behind the bed, his braid trailing out around the bedpost. Little sniffles and choked sobs could be heard and Heero winced, wanting to pummel whatever was making his lover sound that way.

"Duo…" he said softly, coming around to kneel beside the boy who had his face between his drawn-up knees, his arms clasped tightly around his legs, shoulders heaving as he cried.

"Go away Heero," Duo gasped, not looking up from his dark cocoon. 

Heero shook his head. "No." And again, "No. I'm not going away Duo. I'm staying here with you. I'm staying right here with you."

"Are you stupid Yuy?" Duo said, his voice breaking on the last word. "I said GO AWAY."

"No. I'm not going anywhere. Not right now. Duo I know you're upset—"

A noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Duo's throat and the bitterness of it made Heero shiver.

"Upset? Oh no. I'm not upset at all. I've no reason to be upset. After all these things happen _every Goddamn day_ don't they? It's just one of those things—" Duo choked out and hid his face once more, chocolate brown bangs clustering in damp clumps against his forehead. 

Heero inched closer, putting his arms awkwardly around the shaking boy and pulling him against his chest. Rubbing his hands along his back in a way he hoped was comforting, Heero whispered quick words into Duo's hair.

"Let it out, Duo. It's okay to feel this way. You don't need to keep it all inside," he murmured.

"My fault," Duo mumbled, his hands coming up to clutch weakly at his boyfriend's strong arms.

Heero held him tighter, trying to make sense of that ridiculous statement. 

"How?" he whispered. "How is it your fault? You didn't know this was going to happen. You weren't even there—"

"EXACTLY," Duo shouted, pushing away from Heero. "I _wasn't there_. I could have offered to go to the store with Quatre. God, he _asked_ me if I wanted to come along but I told him no. I just sat around here on my ass, eating and watching t.v. while some…some _monster_ did…did…" Duo swallowed, tasting the salt of his tears in his throat. His hands twitched and he fought to hold them still as he stared into Heero's impassive face.

"You see? If I wasn't such a lazy, selfish motherfucker I would have _been there_. But I wasn't. I wasn't there. And it happened again," Duo said, darkly.

"Again?" Heero repeated, but Duo didn't appear to have heard him.

"They all end up getting hurt because of me. Everybody gets hurt because of me. I should have known better then to make friends. I should have known better then to—"

"Hey, hey," Heero protested, one hand reaching out to cup Duo's chin, drawing it up so that their eyes met. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Do you hear? It wasn't your fault."

Duo's mouth fell open, gasping as he struggled to form the words, the questions he needed answers to. "It has to be," he said, "it has to be my fault."

"Why?"

But Duo didn't know why. And so there was no answer. There were no answers for either of them. 

"It's going to be okay," Heero lied, rocking Duo in his arms, wishing that just once, he could let the tears that burned in his eyes fall. "It's going to be okay."

They both knew better. But for now, they believed, believed in the lie that stood between them and darkness. Heero took from Duo's tears and Duo took from Heero's strength and for a while, they had unity again. They sat in silence, no words needed, no words appropriate for the situation. Duo's head curled into the juncture of Heero's neck and the Japanese boy entwined their limbs together, resting his own head for a moment. Clinging together like children, they each hid from their own ghosts, warding off the outside world with a shield of skin and bone. 

'It's funny,' Duo thought, sighing deeply. 'I always feel safe in his arms.'

"Duo?"

"Don't speak. Let me…let me stay like this. Just for a little while…"

Heero nodded, stroking his lover's cheek with long callused fingers. He held Duo tightly and let his eyes fall shut, willing to pretend, if only for a few precious seconds, that he knew exactly what he was doing.


	17. Pretty Good Year

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content.

*

PRETTY GOOD YEAR 

Tears on the sleeve of a man 

don't want to be a boy today 

heard the eternal footman 

bought himself a bike to race 

and Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs 

they say you were something in those formative years 

hold onto nothing as fast as you can 

well still pretty good year

maybe a bright sandy beach 

is gonna bring you back 

maybe not so now you're off 

you're gonna see America 

well let me tell you something about America 

pretty good year 

some things are melting now 

well what's it gonna take till my baby's alright

and Greg he writes letters with his birthday pen 

sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in 

Lucy was pretty your best friend agreed 

well still pretty good year

Tori Amos

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter 16 – Pretty Good Year

"Please…"

That was all he could say. Hands grasped his waist and he felt the pressure of each finger on his bare skin, the slight depression of each, separate finger into his stomach. He could smell stale breath on his face. He could hear his own heart beat, so loud, like drumming. He could sense a whole world beyond the curtain, waiting for him to cry out, waiting for him…

"Please…" he whispered once more, and the mouth on his neck chuckled.

"So mannerly," it mocked. "So very polite."

The hands traveled downwards. The mouth sucked his life away, away. 

"Please…" he begged, trying to stop the tears that dripped onto his chest, into his open, gasping mouth, warm and tasting of the sea. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream. He wanted to swear and curse and command the hands to stop, the mouth to stop. He wanted to say no, no, no, no, no…

"Please!"

'Please don't do this. Please stop. Please God, no. Please God, no please, please, please.'

"I like it when you beg me," the mouth grinned. "Do it again."

'Please…'

"You know you want this."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre woke from his dream with a start, his throat closing off, choking the scream before it could make its way past his lips. He held himself tightly in the darkness, his heavy breathing echoing in the small room. Once he had calmed himself some, Quatre fell back down on his sheets and traced the empty space beside him in the bed. Trowa had thought it best if he slept in another room that night, not wanting to make his lover uncomfortable in any way, and Quatre had agreed…that is, he had not objected.

It was true that he was uncomfortable at the thought of sleeping in the company of another man so soon after, but he was also hurt by the fact that Trowa seemed to be avoiding him. 

'What if Trowa doesn't want me anymore? What if he thinks I'm…dirty?'

Quatre had to admit it was a ridiculous thought. Trowa had already stated time and time again that he did not think of Quatre as 'used' or 'impure' just because someone took advantage of him. He was exactly the same person he was before the…

'Why? Why can't I think the word? Does it really have that much power over me? I'm never going to be the same person I was before, am I. It's going to be like this forever, silent screaming in the dark and constant looks over my shoulder for something that isn't there. This is my life from now on. God…why should I even bother?'

Quatre sighed and looked at the clock on the nightstand beside him. The glowing green numbers hung in the blackness like phantasmagoria, and they disturbed Quatre for some reason. 

'Five thirty a.m. Heero will be getting up in half an hour.'

Quatre dreaded the careful, quiet steps that assaulted his ears every morning when the stoic 01 pilot would creep into his room to check on him. Quatre was quite sure that the boy didn't mean to wake him up. Heero was never anything but silent about the operation. But Quatre's awareness had been increased immensely ever since the attack, almost to the point of paranoia. No soft footfall on carpet ever escaped his notice, nor failed to set his heart pounding in sudden, irrational fear. After Heero had left, Quatre would spend the next few hours in bed, eyes shut tight, body tensed and perfectly still, trying to control the panic that had welled up inside of him. Quatre never told the others about it. They would just add one more eccentricity to the already long list. Besides, Heero only checked in on him because he cared, and Quatre did not want to berate the boy for that. Heero didn't deserve to be blamed for his craziness. 

'Just the same, I don't want to be here when he comes,'Quatre thought, as he climbed silently out of bed and pulled on some comfortable jeans and a sweater. He wasn't certain he was wearing matched colours as it was hard to see in the pre-dawn gloom but he didn't especially care. Who would be around to see him this early anyway?

Quietly, the blonde tiptoed past the rooms where the others were sleeping, hearing the soft snores of Duo through the door and smiling to himself.

'At least _someone_ here is getting a good night's sleep,' he thought to himself, ruefully.

Being careful not to step on any squeaky floorboards, Quatre made his way to the front door and slipped out into the cool morning air. It felt good to be outside. Quatre breathed in the damp smell of spring rain and walked down the street towards the park. The street lamps were still turned on and their soft glow, muted by the smoky tendrils of fog, made them look like the halos of angels. Quatre walked quietly, aware of the thick stillness that made the sound of his shuffled steps echo off the buildings. The fog curled itself around his figure and dampened his hair, curling the edges around his neck and forehead. Quatre imagined he looked like some sort of ghost or shade, gliding through the wet grass on fog-obscured feet.

Reaching the small park, Quatre walked along the asphalt track, watching the rosy bit of sun trying to peek through the thick clouds of night, while turning the sky around it a warm orangey colour. The stars still hung in the navy darkness above the clouds and the contrast made for a stunning picture. For a moment, Quatre felt that there might be a reason for living after all. 

A sudden urge struck Quatre and he observed the long winding path before him with great interest. It was of moderate length, no more then a couple kilometers at the most. He'd sprinted more then that in his training easily. Checking to make sure no one else was on the path, Quatre crouched down and counted his breathing.

'One…two…THREE.'

And Quatre ran, his arms pumping back and forth as he poured all his energy into the act, his thoughts flying before the increasing speed, his frantic breathing, his heart pounding once more in his ears, but this time for a different reason. 

'Faster,' he urged himself, forcing his legs into a quicker tempo, in time to his heartbeats. His legs were a blur, the fog parting for him easily as he swept past.

'Faster!'

The wind combed its fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs back off his sweating face.

'Faster!'

He closed his eyes on sudden tears, pumping his arms faster, stretching his legs out in front of him like he was racing the wind, like he was escaping from something that clamoured just at his heels like some rabid beast.

'Faster, damn you, faster!'

Feeling his breath giving out, Quatre tucked his head into his chest and gave one last burst of speed before his legs failed him and he sank to the hard pavement, his heart thundering in his ears, his head throbbing dizzily.

Quatre gulped down huge mouthfuls of air, his breathing sounding like sobs. One hand pressed to his chest, cupping the trembling beat inside as if it might break out at any moment. When the spots from his vision faded and his breathing was more or less under control, Quatre pushed himself up on wobbly legs. His first few steps looking like he was trying to walk a sea deck in a storm, Quatre made it to a bench and collapsed on it just in time to see the sun burn off the last remnants of the fog. 

Feeling a trifle silly to have pushed himself so hard for no reason, Quatre looked around the empty park once more and consulted his watch. He was surprised to find that it had been over two hours since he left the safehouse. 

'The others will all be up by now. I wonder if they've figured out I've gone…'

Knowing that he should get back, Quatre took one last deep breath and stood up. He'd felt better while he was running. There was nothing to think about then. Now that he had stopped, traces of his nightmare had resurfaced to invade his mind and Quatre shivered slightly. He walked slowly back towards the house, every clattering step sounding like the mocking laughter of his dreams.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Heero Yuy woke at precisely six o'clock, his internal alarm snapping his eyes open and throwing him from sound sleep into instant awareness, something that had always annoyed the hell out of Duo. The braided boy liked to complain loudly that he never got a chance for an early morning snuggle with his boyfriend because Heero insisted on waking up at an obscene hour every morning.

"Even on weekends," he had whined. "Just to irritate me, I swear."

Duo liked to sleep for as long as he could, sometimes not emerging from the bedroom until noon on Saturdays and Sundays. He maintained that people who never learned to sleep in grow old before their time.

Heero smirked at the memories and glanced to his side to observe his sleeping lover, snoring softly and grasping the edge of his pillow tightly. He had kicked the sheets off himself during the night and they were twisted around his legs like rope. He had also managed to steal Heero's covers without him noticing, even though these eventually ended up on the floor. 

'No wonder I felt a draft during the night,' Heero thought, amused.

Being careful not to wake the braided American, Heero slid out of bed and pulled a tank top over his slept-in spandex. Walking silently, he crept down the hallway, stopping at Quatre's room to peak through the crack in the door.

He did this every morning since the rape, his intentions somewhere between protection and paranoia. He still felt incredible guilt from the fact that he wasn't able to protect a member of his team—

'No…not my team. My family. This is my family now.'

Duo had seemed determined to shoulder the blame, but Heero knew that it was all his fault. He was the leader. He should have been able to protect Quatre. What kind of a Perfect Soldier was he, anyway?

'At least I can do this for him now, when it's too late,' Heero sighed to himself, swinging the door open a bit more so that he could get a better view of the bed.

Inside the darkened room, he looked on the bed to find…nothing.

Blinking, Heero looked again.

Nope. Still nothing there.

Puzzled, Heero opened the door all the way and checked the rest of the room, including the bathroom. Quatre wasn't there either.

'Maybe he got up early and went down for breakfast already.'

Heero padded downstairs, expecting to find the blond Arabian sitting in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea pensively. But Quatre wasn't there either. He wasn't in the living room or the basement, or the front porch.

Heero felt a burst of panic arise in his stomach as he raced back upstairs and pounded on Trowa's door. Maybe the blond had changed his mind about sleeping alone and went to sleep in Trowa's room…that had to be it! He couldn't be gone!

"Trowa?" Heero called, impatiently. 

There was a soft rustling from inside and then the door opened to reveal a rumpled, but alert Trowa Barton.

"Heero? What's wrong, are we under attack?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Is…is Quatre in there with you?" Heero questioned, his usually expressionless voice tinged with hysteria.

Trowa frowned. "No…why? Isn't he in his room?"

"He isn't anywhere! I've looked," Heero blurted. "He's just disappeared."

"WHAT?!"

Heero spun around to find Duo, wide eyed and pulling a housecoat around himself standing behind him.

"Quatre's gone," Heero explained. "He's not in the house."

"We've got to find him," Duo said, his fingers running nervously through his bangs. 

Trowa nodded, already pulling some clothes on over his boxers, a worried look on his face. While he was tugging his turtleneck over his head, the door across the hall opened and a bedraggled Wufei emerged.

"What's going on?" he asked, yawning.

"Quatre's missing," Duo informed him. "We've got to find him right away!"

Wufei frowned and said, "He probably just wanted to be by himself for a while. Why don't you just wait for him to come back on his own?"

Duo looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted another head.

"Are you crazy 'Fei?" he said. "He could get hurt or…or worse! We've got to bring him back where it's safe."

Both Trowa and Heero nodded in agreement.

"Winner is a Gundam pilot," Wufei reminded them. "He can take care of himself. He doesn't need you smothering him, especially not now."

"Fuck you, Wufei!" Duo screeched, suddenly angry. "You're wrong! He can't take care of himself. Or have you forgotten what happened that last time he went off alone?!"

The sound of china breaking drew all eyes to the hallway, where Quatre stood in shock, his hands trembling with emotion.

"Quatre!" Trowa cried, relief evident in his voice. He moved forward to embrace the boy but stopped short when Quatre flinched back from him.

"I…was only going for a walk," he said. His blue eyes were wounded and he looked accusingly at Duo. "I came back okay. I'm not a baby who needs your constant supervision."

"Quatre—"

"I'm going to my room," the blond Arabian said, stalking into his bedroom and slamming the door shut.

The rest of the pilots stood in awkward silence, everyone except Wufei looking guiltily at their toes.

"I-I didn't mean that he couldn't…I mean…" Duo stuttered, tears filling his violet eyes. He blinked them back and pulled his shoulder away from Heero's hand, refusing to take the comfort that the 01 pilot offered. "Tell Quatre I'm sorry," he whispered, fleeing down the stairs.

Heero looked after him sadly, wanting to follow, but knowing that he wouldn't be welcome if he did. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, mixing with his already large ball of guilt that resided there. He knew he had messed things up big time, but he couldn't help that irrational fear.

'I screwed up again. Forgive me…Quatre.'

Heero looked regretfully towards Quatre's door where he could plainly hear muffled sobs from behind the thick wood. Turning, he went into his own room and closed the door, hoping maybe a mission had come so that he could turn his mind to other things.

Trowa was pounding on Quatre's door, pleading with him to let him inside.

"Please Quatre, I'm sorry! Please let me in," he begged.

"Go away," came the muffled voice from behind the door, and Trowa's face fell and his eyes clouded with tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Wufei placed a hand on the distraught boy's arm. "Here," he said. "Let me try."

"Quatre?" the Chinese called, knocking softly on the door. "May I come in?"

There was a long moment of silence and then a hesitant "yes" sounded. Giving Trowa a reassuring looked, Wufei opened the door and walked in, leaving Trowa in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, over and over again. "I'm so so sorry." 


	18. Spark

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content. Violence and a heck of a lot of swearing.

*

SPARK

She's addicted to nicotine patches 

she's addicted to nicotine patches 

she's afraid of the light in the dark 

6.58 are you sure where my spark is 

here, here, here

she's convinced she could hold back a glacier 

but she couldn't keep Baby alive 

doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere 

here, here, here 

you say you don't want it again 

and again but you don't really mean it 

you say you don?t want it 

this circus we're in 

but you don't you don't really mean it you don't really mean it

if the Divine master plan is perfection 

maybe next i'll give Judas a try 

trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin 

here, here, here 

you say you don't want it again 

and again but you don't really mean it 

you say you don't want it 

this circus we're in 

but you don't you don't really mean it you don't really mean it

how many fates turn around in the overtime 

ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find 

you thought that you were the bomb yeah well so did i 

say you don't want it 

say you don't want it 

say you don't want it again 

and again but you don't really mean it 

say you don't want it 

this circus we're in 

but you don't you don't really mean it you don't really mean it

she's addicted to nicotine patches 

she's afraid of the light in the dark 

6.58 are you sure where my spark is 

here, here, here

*

Bleeding On The Inside – Chapter 17 – Spark

"Quatre?"

Wufei awkwardly hunched down beside the blond who was sitting, half-hidden behind the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, face hidden in his arms. The boy didn't acknowledge his presence and Wufei wondered for an instant if he should just let him have a moment by himself for a while. But…no, Quatre was his friend and he needed to talk about this.

'And I need to listen, I think. Maybe even more then he needs to talk. I need to allow myself to take this in, instead of hiding from it like I've been doing.' 

"Quatre," he tried again, more firmly this time, "the others…they didn't mean what they said. They don't think you are weaker for what happened to you."

"Oh really?" the blond snorted, his words muffled by his sleeve. "How did you get that impression Wufei? Because it certainly doesn't appear that way from what I heard. Heero isn't checking on me in the middle of the night because he thinks I'm strong and can take care of myself. Trowa doesn't follow me everywhere because I'm _not_ weak. Duo doesn't stay up half the night with a .44 and a baseball bat outside the door because I'm a big boy and can handle my own problems."

"They are scared. Scared for you, scared for themselves…" Wufei could see that Quatre wasn't buying it so he decided it was time for a confession. "I'm scared too, you know."

Quatre raised his head from the cushion of his arms to stare at the Chinese boy beside him in disbelief.

"You? You are scared?"

"Of course. I never thought that it could happen to nice people. At least, not people I knew. Especially not in someplace open and public like a clothes shop, and not by the person who works there. It kind of shattered a nice illusion I had about good things happening to good people and bad things happening to bad people, like the karma of the world shifted. And when we found out that the law, the very people who are supposed to protect society from criminals like that, would not help you…it just told me…there is no justice left in this world."

Quatre's eyes watered and he blinked furiously to keep the tears from falling, tracing patterns in the carpet with his fingers.

"I had the same nice illusion. I guess it serves me right for being so naïve," he said bitterly.

"No!" Wufei exclaimed, cupping Quatre's hands in his own. "No, don't say that. He had no right to come and break you this way. Quatre you're only fifteen! You should have had the opportunity to keep your illusions while you are young."

"I'm a gundam pilot, Wufei. I wasn't very innocent before this all happened you know."

"The ability to kill a man's body is much different from the ability to commit violence to a man's soul. There is innocence and there is innocence. It was wrong, what he did, and I am so very sorry you went through that. I am sorry I couldn't keep you safe, my friend."

"Oh Wufei, it wasn't your fault! There was nothing you could have done. You weren't there," Quatre said, horrified that his friend would blame himself.

"Exactly," Wufei stated. "I was not there and I am sorry. I should have been. I let you down."

"No, no…Wufei, if you had known what would happen you would have stopped it, right?"

"Of course—"

"But you didn't know. You couldn't have known. None of us can see the future Wufei. If I had known I would have stayed with the Maguanacs. But I didn't. You can't take the blame for this Wufei."

"Well then, you can't take the blame for this either."

Quatre bit his lip and hugged his knees tighter to his chest. He didn't speak for a long moment. When he finally did his voice was no louder then a whisper.

"Sometimes it's easier if I think of it as my fault. That I did something to make him want to…hurt me. Then maybe I could change whatever I did wrong and…it won't happen anymore. I'll be safe and I won't have to be afraid of every damn footstep behind me, of every stranger who smiles at me, of every small enclosed space, of falling asleep, of the darkness and shadows in the corners of my very own room….I wouldn't have to be afraid. And I could just go back into the world and be normal again. If I could just figure out what I did _wrong_…."

Quatre's voice broke on the last word and the tears that had been threatening finally fell, dripping down onto his shirt and dampening the fabric. Wufei moved closer, bringing an arm around the slim shoulders of the sobbing boy and hugging him close in a gesture of comfort.

"I'm sorry," Quatre choked, trying to stop his tears, mortified at losing control before his Chinese friend. "I'm sorry."

Wufei shook his head and drew Quatre further into the circle of his arms.

"You did nothing wrong. Quatre, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Then why? Why did this happen? Am I such a bad person that this should happen to me? Did I offend Allah? Is it because I'm a Gundam pilot? It just feels like…I'm being punished and I don't know _why_. And no one will tell me! Tell me…Wufei…tell me…why?"

Helplessly, Wufei said, "I don't think it's something that can be explained. Not to any point that it would make sense. This isn't…I cannot label this. I cannot give you an answer, Quatre."

"I know," the blond boy sighed, dragging a sleeve across the wetness that speckled his cheeks. "It was a stupid question anyway. I don't need to know why. It doesn't matter why. It's just because, because, because, because, _be_cuzzzz…."

Sometimes silence is the only right answer. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Heero closed his laptop and looked at his watch. It had been a few hours and Duo had not come back yet. Heero tried to stop the sick feeling of worry that was settling itself in his stomach at the braided boy's absence from his sight but he couldn't help it. Helplessness was not an emotion that sat well with Heero Yuy. He didn't like it. Not at all.

'Just think how Quatre must feel. His helplessness…' 

Heero tried his best not to think about it. He knew that his paranoia and guilt had caused enough problems already. Duo was upset, Trowa looked devastated, Wufei was disapproving, and Quatre….Quatre was angry.

It might have been a good thing. Anger is better then sadness any day. Anger was something Heero could deal with. After all, he dealt with it himself everyday.

Sighing, Heero got up from his desk and opened the door to his room, intending to go look for Duo and coax him out of hiding long enough to have lunch. And maybe he could get Quatre to eat something as well….

Heero's plans changed when he stumbled onto a stricken looking Trowa Barton, who knelt in the hallway in front of Quatre's door. The uni-banged boy's eyes were glassy and painful to look at, Heero winced inwardly when he saw them. 

"Trowa?" he said softly, crouching down beside him carefully. "Are you okay?"

Tear-filled green eyes turned towards his. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Settling next to the brunette, Heero abandoned his plan of finding Duo. Trowa needed him more right now.

"Quatre wasn't really mad at you, you know. He knows you only wanted to protect him, to keep him safe."

"I never thought he was weak," Trowa replied softly, wiping at his cheeks for moisture that wasn't there.

Heero hesitated and then placed a steady hand on Trowa's back. He wasn't used to offering human contact as comfort, usually if Duo needed such reassurances he would initiate it. Plus he was tentative about crossing any boundaries with the tall, green-eyed soldier. Trowa wouldn't normally let anyone except the little blond Arabian touch him.

'It should be Quatre doing this, or Duo. Even Wufei is better at calming and soothing wounded spirits then I am. I'm no good at dealing with such raw emotions. I act on them but I cannot analyze them or speak of them. But Duo is…elsewhere and Quatre has other things to deal with so I guess it has to be me.' 

Silently hoping that he wouldn't mess up, Heero pulled Trowa into a slow hug, giving him ample opportunity to shift away. Surprisingly, Trowa only stiffened minutely and then he allowed himself to collapse on Heero's shoulder, rubbing his face into the smooth fabric of the boy's tank top. A few shuddering breaths later he was able to compose himself and his eyes no longer took that dead sheen. Heero waited patiently, not saying anything because he really didn't know what he could say that didn't sound trite and patronizing and inherently false, but Trowa didn't mind either way. The silence was better then what it had been before. This was…comfortable, understanding, or at least non-judgmental. And there really was nothing to be said that hadn't been said already. He breathed in the gunpowder and old blood scent that clung to Heero's skin and murmured a quiet thank you against the warm flesh. The Japanese boy did not speak but the callused fingertips that swept across Trowa's forehead were gentle and he understood the silent affection and support behind the gesture.

"You should probably go find Duo," Trowa said, his voice sounding louder then it was in the stillness of the hallway. 

"You going to be okay?" Heero asked.

"I'll be fine. I'm a survivor."

Heero suspected there was more to the wryly spoken words then what he heard but decided not to push right then. Afterall, he did want to find Duo before the boy could get himself into any mischief and he still had not gotten rid of the slightly paranoid feeling of wanting everyone near so he could watch over them.

Heero nodded and released Trowa from his arms so the boy could stand up. 

"I think I'll go to the kitchen a see about lunch," Trowa said, brushing the dust from the floor off his pants with practiced nonchalance before tossing a wistful glance towards the closed bedroom door. "Quatre and Wufei will probably be hungry after they finish their talk."

"Hn." Heero nodded again and added, "If I find Duo in time he'll want to eat as well."

"No doubt of that," Trowa said, a small smile gracing his face as he remembered the braided boy's seemingly endless appetite. "I'll make enough for everybody, just in case."

Heero made an approving noise and turned to go. He paused before he reached the stairs, turning to look back at the taller pilot. 

"Trowa?"

"Hm?"

"Everything's going to be just fine."

Again, that small smile. "Sure Heero."

The other boy had made it fully down the stairs and to the door before Trowa called him back.

"Hey Heero?"

"Hn?"

"Thank you. I mean it."

Heero searched his memory for a proper response to such a declaration, found all the ones supplied by his training and rejected them, instead pulling up something Duo had once said to him after he had helped him bandage his wounds after a very bad mission.

"Don't mention it. What's family for anyway?"

The door shut and Trowa Barton made his way to the kitchen feeling decidedly better then he had in days.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Duo walked through the streets, deliberately taking the back alleys and dangerous cross sections of the town. Essentially he was looking for a fight and hoping some nice, idiotic young street punk would oblige. Unfortunately at one in the afternoon all the street punks seemed to be home in bed or sleeping off a night of drugs and alcohol somewhere. Or maybe they were vampires who disappeared without darkness in which to hide. Either way they weren't around and Duo was getting frustrated.

"I just want to pick a fight goddammit," he muttered, making his way through the garbage-strewn streets. "I always seem to find them when I don't want them. Why can't I find one now? This is some kind of cosmic comedy routine I swear."

Viciously, Duo kicked at a dented can and sent is crashing into the wall with a loud clatter. 

"Hey faggot! Get the fuck out of our ally!"

Duo spun around and grinned as he found himself confronted with three buggy-eyed teens with multiple piercings and matching scowls on their faces. 

"Ah, here we go!" he remarked brightly to himself. "I was beginning to think that this might be a dull neighborhood. Glad you finally decided to show up."

"What the hell are talking about faggot?"

"Is that the only word you know or is your vocabulary higher?" Duo inquired innocently, instinctively crouching down into his preferred fighter's stance, his weight slightly more distributed on his left foot, hands flexed and curved but not into fists.

"Motherfucking cocksucker!!"

"Oops, my mistake. Guess you're smarter then you look."

"You're dead punk." One of the thugs moved forward, his meaty fists wrapped around a length of metal pipe. Grinning widely, he swung the pipe at Duo's head.

Easily dodging the slow-moving arc that the pipe was taking, Duo ducked underneath and swung a punch into the thug's stomach, digging into the soft flesh. The thug's eyes widened in surprise and he dropped the pipe and doubled over, retching. Duo stepped back and brushed his hands together, frowning.

"Hm. Didn't go unconscious, dammit. I've got to ask Heero how he manages to do that."

The other two thugs shook off their temporary shock at seeing one of their companions go down so easily and rushed Duo brandishing various knives. Duo dodged one of the stabbing blades and grabbed the arm in his way, bringing it down onto one knee and breaking it as cleanly as he would a twig. The thug attached to the arm screamed in pain and fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap. He did, however, manage to trip Duo on the way down with his flailing limbs and the gundam pilot hit the ground hard, cursing.

"Gotcha now fag!" the remaining uninjured thug crowed, swooping his blade down, aimed at Duo's throat.

Duo caught the arm before it could descend and aimed a quick kick at the thug's groin. The man went down immediately, his face screwed up in pain. Duo took the knife and slid it into his boot, patting it affectionately. 

"Thanks for the blade man. I've been meaning to get a new one," he said, grinning at the fallen man clutching his privates. His grin faded, however, as he heard a distinct click from behind.

"Turn around fag. Slowly."

Duo cursed and raised his hands to his eye level, turning slowly. The thug he had taken out first had gotten back up and was now packing heat. The gun pointed at his head wasn't very powerful, but it would do the job at point blank range.

"Good boy," the thug sneered, licking his lips. "I'm gonna wrap that faggy braid around your neck and watch you turn blue. Then I'm going to have some…fun."

Calling himself all kinds of idiot, Duo calculated whether or not he could dodge a bullet at such close range. The odds didn't look good. Then something in the background caught Duo's eye and he grinned.

"Hey buddy, there's something behind you."

"Nice try faggot, but I'm not stupid enough to fall for that old trick," the thug laughed. 

"Could have fooled me," a cold nasal voice said.

The thug spun wildly around but a bullet caught him in the throat before he could turn completely. His last sight was of a messy haired Japanese boy staring down at him with cold blue eyes. The other two punks saw their leader slam lifelessly to the ground and gathered what strength they had to run away.

Duo sighed with relief as the body went down, his shoulder relaxing with the knowledge that he wouldn't meet his maker today.

"Thank Hee-chan," he said, tossing his lover a grin.

"Stupid," the Japanese boy spat harshly. "Idiot. Baka. What if I hadn't been there? What would have happened then? You fucking idiot you never think do you? You never think about the consequences of your actions. You selfish, stupid, asshole."

Duo gulped and took a step back as the boy came closer, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. This was as mad as he'd ever seen Heero. More then the time he'd put a virus on his laptop in order to get attention. More even then the time he'd thrown out all of Heero's clothes. He was a dead man.

"H-Hee-chan…..I know it was stupid—"

"Moron! Fucking idiotic, brainless moron!" Heero cornered Duo and the braided boy ducked, thinking he was about to be hit. He started in surprise when he felt Heero's arms enfold around him and a face bury itself in his chest.

"H-Heero?"

"Idiot!" the word was sobbed. "How could you do that? What if you'd died? What would I do then, huh? What the fuck would I do then?! You stupid, stupid idiot!!"

"Heero…you're shaking…" Duo suddenly felt extremely guilty about what he'd almost provoked. He held Heero closer, slowly stroking the japanese boy's hair. "It's alright now," he soothed. "I'm okay. We're both okay."

"Don't you ever do that again," Heero gasped.

"I won't. I'm so sorry Heero."

"Promise me. Swear it!"

"I swear it," Duo said, "I won't ever be so stupid again." 

"Baka," Heero muttered, fisting his hands into Duo's shirt so tightly he almost ripped the fabric. "You are such a baka."

Getting no argument from Duo, they stayed locked together in silence for a few more minutes before slowly walking back to the safehouse. Even then, Heero refused to let go of Duo's sleeve, his furious gaze keeping even the most opinionated of homophobics from commenting. 


	19. Waitress

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. "Jerk-Off" is a song by Tool.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content.

~*~ 

THE WAITRESS

So i want to kill this waitress  
she's worked here a year longer than i  
if i did it fast you know that's an act of kindness  
  
but i believe in peace  
oh, i believe in peace, bitch  
i believe in peace  
  
i want to kill this waitress  
i can't believe this violence in mind  
and is her power all in her club sandwich  
  
but i believe in peace  
oh, i believe in peace, bitch  
i believe in peace  
  
i want to kill this killing wish  
there're too many stars and not enough sky  
boys all think she's living kindness  
ask a fellow waitress  
ask a fellow waitress

Tori Amos

~*~

Bleeding On the Inside – Chapter 18 – Waitress

"I'm not hungry."

Wufei resisted the urge to throw something. Barely. Quatre had been sitting in his room for days now, only eating the barest minimum of food, sometimes even less, and Wufei was sick of it. More importantly, he was sick of Trowa's constant pacing and worrying. The green-eyed pilot was driving them all nuts with his intense anxiety. Heero was more paranoid then normal, especially after Duo's stunt the week before in nearly getting himself killed. Duo's emotions were all over the place. One moment he would be laughing and joking like he hadn't a care in the world, and the next he would be so depressed that not even Heero could get him to smile. Trowa had drawn into himself even more, his isolation overpowered only by the aura of guilt he had wrapped around himself. Quatre had still refused to talk to him, but then, Quatre had refused to talk to anybody recently.

"Look Quatre," Wufei started, after a deep calming breath, "you have to eat something. I don't care what it is. Soup, ice cream, pickles, soy sauce…_whatever_…but you have to eat something. And I think you should get dressed and come out of your room for a while."

"I'm not hungry," the blond repeated, sulkily.

Wufei growled and stomped over to where the boy was sitting on the bed, one leg drawn up to his chest, protectively. Moving slowly, he grasped Quatre's thin shoulders and turned the boy towards him, glaring at him until watery blue eyes met his own. Quatre's flesh was cold under Wufei's hands and the blond flinched at the touch. His mouth twisted into a displeased frown.

"Eat. Something. You look horrible, like a strong wind could bowl you over," Wufei said, his eyes observing just how much weight Quatre had lost ever since…the incident.

"I'm not—"

"If you say you're not hungry one more time I'll slap you, I swear it," Wufei hissed. 

Tears filled Quatre's eyes and his head drooped on his neck, like he couldn't find the energy to support his own body anymore. "Wufei please," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear, "I just can't put anything in my mouth right now. I'll throw up. I'll eat later, I promise."

"How about a milkshake? Some tea? You need sugar in your body, and I don't care how you get it but I'm not going to watch you just waste away until you—"

"Die?"

Wufei held his breath, his muscles tensing at the mention of something he knew he didn't want to discuss. "Quatre…"

The blond boy pulled out of his grasp with a snort. "You don't have to hide it. I _know_ what you're thinking…what all of you are thinking. That I'm going to turn suicidal and you'll just waltz into my room one morning and find me without a pulse. Go on, admit it! You think I want to die, don't you! You think I want to DIE!"

"Shut up!" Wufei yelled, his hands clenching into fists. "You're not going to die, so just stop _talking_ about it."

"You don't know, do you," the smaller boy said, quite calmly. "You have no control over fate. You don't know what I'm thinking. Besides, my blood test results haven't come back yet. I could be dying as we speak and you wouldn't know it. Not until it's too late."

The Asian boy had had enough. This was too much for him to take at one time. Continuing the conversation might make him do something he would regret later on. And he had no desire to hurt his friend anymore then he already had. Wufei stammered out another plea for Quatre to 'please eat something' and then retreated to his own room and sanctuary. Quatre stared at the close door he had left from and sighed.

"I don't want to die, Wufei," he said to the empty room. "But this isn't living."

In the next room, Heero Yuy, who had been eavesdropping through the door, silently agreed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I'm going out."

Duo blinked in surprise as he watched his boyfriend grab a light jacket from the closet and strap a weapon under his left arm. Heero hadn't left his side for days, and although the close contact was driving Duo a little insane, he wondered what had happened to make Heero change his mind about sticking close. 

"Not that I mind or anything, 'cause you were kind of bugging me with the mother hen act, but why the sudden need to take off? We got a mission I don't know about," Duo asked, leaning with exaggerated casualness against the wall.

"I need to take care of something."

Duo's eyes narrowed as he took in the extra ammo Heero was pocketing. "You're not planning anything…rash, are you Hee-chan? I want to come with you—"

A hand closed around his wrist and Duo found his lips suddenly captured by an insistent mouth. The kiss was hard and searching, distracting. Duo recognized the diversion for what is was but decided to go along with it anyway. Heero would tell him eventually, and his boyfriend wasn't one for taking unnecessary risks…not where the mission was concerned, anyway. After giving one last swipe across Heero's lips with his tongue, Duo pulled away and tried to catch his breath. 

"You know lover-mine," he panted, "if you didn't want me to tag along, a gun to the face and a short 'none of your business baka' would have done fine. Now I'm being left behind and I'm horny too."

Heero flinched and directed his gaze to the carpet. 'Should have known that wouldn't work. He's probably pissed at me for being sneaky now.'

"Hey," Duo said, catching up Heero's hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. "Guess you'll just have to make it up to me when you get back. Obviously I've been too lax with your discipline lately. We'll have to remedy that right away."

Heero smiled and then blushed when he saw the lecherous grin on his boyfriend's face. Relief at the fact that Duo wasn't mad at him gave way to nervousness. 'Oh shit…'

"No whipped cream," he pleaded. "It took us four hours to get the stuff out of the carpet last time."

Duo pouted and then grinned. "Fine, no whipped cream. I've got something better in mind."

"Like what?"

"None of your business nosy pants. Didn't you have someplace you needed to go?"

Heero was extremely reluctant to leave now. But still…a mission was a mission. "I'll back as soon as I can. Don't wait up, okay?"

"Sure," Duo sighed. "Whatever you say buddy. Just don't come back all shot full of holes, all right?"

Heero gave him a smirk, which Duo took to mean 'of course not baka,' and started out the door. Duo watched him go with something like fear tightening in his belly. He still hadn't gotten rid of that feeling that horrible things would happen to his friends as soon as he let them out of his sight. 'Heero's a big boy,' he reassured his stomach, which was trying to do flips that would make Trowa envious, 'He can take care of himself.'

Still, Duo couldn't help himself from dashing out the door and calling after Heero, who was half-way down the street by this point. He caught up to the short-haired boy and gave him one last furious kiss. Mystified, Heero held on and returned the kiss, waiting until Duo had calmed enough before letting go.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," Duo whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder his voice would break.

"I promise." Heero gave Duo what he hoped was a comforting pat on the shoulder and then took off at a run, not wanting to prolong the goodbye anymore. 'I promise I'll stay safe for you, Duo.'

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Quatre held his hand over the doorknob, debating whether or not to venture from the room he had locked himself in for days. On one hand, he was beginning to get cabin fever. He was pretty sure that if he had to stare at the same tastefully decorated four walls any longer he was going to scream. On the other hand, going outside meant possible running into people he didn't know how to talk to at the moment. It wasn't as if he didn't _want_ to talk to his friends, he just wasn't sure he could think of anything normal, anything _safe_ to talk about. 

'Stupid stupid stupid. Wufei's right, I need to eat something and I need to stop being so scared that I can't even leave my room without feeling like throwing up. I want…I need to be normal again. So…'

"So open the door, moron," Quatre chided himself. His fingers tightened on the knob and slowly swung the door open to the empty hallway. 

Taking a deep breath, Quatre pushed himself to walk down the stairs towards the kitchen. A brief wave of vertigo almost plunged him down the steps and Quatre kept a white-knuckled grip on the banister until the spots dancing before his eyes disappeared. 

"Guess I really do need to eat something," he murmured to himself.

"No shit."

Quatre jumped at the voice and lost his footing again, but strong arms caught him before he could crack his head open on the hard-wood floor. 

"Oh crap," Duo said, his braid swinging over his shoulder as he looked down at the blond bundle he had gripped in his arms. "I didn't mean to startle you, Quat! Shit, I'm sorry, you almost took a dive there, buddy. Are you okay? Want me to help you back to your room? You look like hell, 'scuse my saying so. Glad to see you're out of those fuzzy animal pajamas though. Not that they weren't cute, it's just, they were starting to get just a bit rank. I'm no spring rose either, but that's just because I haven't figured out how to work the washing machine yet. Wuffers said he'd teach me but that was before I hid his relaxation candles and he got all pissy."

Quatre smiled. 'Some things never change.' 

"Actually Duo, could you help me to the kitchen. I think I need to eat something. Badly."

Duo blinked and then grinned widely. "Sure thing buddy! Let's just get you some munchies. Wufei said you weren't eating much and I got to tell you man, I think you pissed him off by refusing to eat those sea-weed protein things he made. Tell you the truth, I don't blame you. Those things were awful. He's in his room praying to Nataku or something at the moment and I don't know where Trowa got off to. Heero's on a mission or something, he wouldn't tell me. So it's just you and me here…"

The rambling tirade continued all the way into the kitchen where Quatre was promptly settled into a chair with a mug of soup in one hand and a handful of crackers in the other. Quatre listened to Duo's chatter and sipped his soup, glad that he didn't seem to have to supply anything to the conversation. The warm broth was good but he couldn't seem to get down much of it before his stomach protested. Quatre looked guiltily at the almost full mug but Duo only smiled and said, "Finished?"

"Yeah," Quatre replied. "Sorry."

"S'okay. We'll just save it for later. You should probably eat something small every couple of hours anyway."

Quatre nodded and twisted his hands into his shirt, dreading the awkward silence he knew was coming. 

"So…" Duo said, struggling to find something safe to talk about. "Want to watch t.v.?" 

He cringed as soon as he said it, remembering the incident not too long ago, when a certain remote got smashed against the wall. But to his surprise Quatre only shook his head and smiled weakly.

"Actually," the blond said, "there's something else I wanted to ask you."

"Sure. What is it?"

"I ah…I wanted to know if…that is, do you think that…" Quatre bit his lip and took a breath, disgusted at himself for stammering.

"Quatre," Duo said, "just spit it out. I won't be mad."

Quatre laughed nervously. "That's what I wanted to ask you. Could you…teach me how to be angry?"

Duo blinked, shook his head, and then blinked again. 'Nope. Still don't understand.'

"Huh?" he said, quite eloquently.

"You see…" the boy started, "I feel a lot of things now. Scared mostly. And a bit guilty too."

Duo's mouth opened at this point but a glare from Quatre snapped it shut again.

"I know it wasn't my fault, okay? You don't have to keep jumping all over me about that. What I should feel…or, I guess I should say, what I want to feel, is anger. I can't seem to let myself be angry and it's not right. I need to be angry. I need to be able to…vent once and a while."

Quatre peeked up at his friend through the wisps of hair that clustered around his forehead, looking for signs of shock or disgust. Instead he found understanding and something that looked like relief in Duo's eyes.

"Guess you've come to the right place then," Duo said. "I'm probably angry enough for all five of us put together. But you're right, everybody needs to be able to vent once in a while. And it's good to be angry and violent in the right way. Don't want to go nuts in your gundam where it's kind of dangerous. Do you want to start right now, or should we wait a bit?"

Quatre tossed Duo a grateful smile. "I'd like to start now, but I don't think I'm up to it just yet. Maybe later tonight. After I rest a bit and…get my strength back."

"Sure thing buddy," Duo said, cheerfully. "Why don't I just escort you back to your room and you can have a nap. I'm going to go see if I can find Trowa and convince him to eat some lunch. By the time I get him you might be able to eat something more."

Quatre pushed down the twinge of nervousness he felt about seeing Trowa and managed to nod. "That's fine, but can you just put me on the couch? I don't really want to go back to my room right now."

"Sure. Whatever you feel like doing. You can watch some t.v. if you get board. Uh…Heero got us a new remote control," Duo pointed out, sheepishly. 

Quatre smiled back and walked over to the living room. The peace talks started today. Perhaps Miss Relena would be on one of the five hundred channels. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trowa watched the cars drive by, absently categorizing them in colour, size, model. He had escaped the house early that morning, unable to stand the tensions wrapped and stuffed into the rooms and hallways. Quatre had not come out of his room in days and Trowa was sure that it was partly his fault. He had no idea what to say, how to deal with both Quatre's pain and his own. Memories he would have rather left unexplored kept coming back to haunt him and thoughts he was sure he'd abandoned were starting to creep into his consciousness again. If he could just separate and identify all that he was feeling…but right now it was just one big ball of hurt and he was afraid of digging too deep.

Before, he would have gone to Quatre with his pain, trusting the blond empath to be able to comfort and soothe the rough spots in his mind, in his memory. But it was impossible now. He wouldn't burden his lover—was he still his lover?—with such problems. Not when he had so much to deal with by himself. It would only make things worse.

Still…he wished he could talk to Quatre, about anything.

'I miss him and he's not even gone. Maybe I'm really the one who's going away though. I should probably explain to him why…I'm so scared of saying the wrong thing…but he deserves to know.' 

Sighing heavily, Trowa slipped out of the alcove he had hidden himself in and started walking back to the safehouse. On his way home he spotted a figure that looked a lot like Heero entering one of the buildings across the street but dismissed that thought. Heero hadn't left Duo's side ever since that day the braided boy had fled the house and came back with Heero attached to his arm and tears on both their faces. Neither of them had offered an explanation and Trowa hadn't asked. They would tell in their own time or not at all.

'Maybe when I get back everything will be back to normal and I can just pretend this is a bad dream.' 

"Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly," Trowa snorted and picked up his pace. He didn't want to be outside when darkness fell. Too many shadows lurked in his mind without the added help of natural night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre flipped through the channels absently, watching various snippets of talk shows and music videos. He found the peace talk coverage on channel 54 and suffered through boring speech after boring speech made by senators until Relena's face appeared on the screen. She looked tired but confident and Quatre smiled when he saw how she handled the questions people were throwing at her. 

Princess Relena, is it true that you plan to resurrect the pacifist kingdom of the Sanq?

Yes, that's correct. I want to carry out the ideals of total pacifism that my family has always followed. My dream is that the Sanq kingdom will be a sanctuary for those who want to stop the fighting and live in peace. Hopefully our ideal will spread and there will be no more need for this war.

But isn't it true that man was made to fight? War is a natural state for human beings. What makes you think pacifism can be accomplished?

It is true that everyone is capable of violence. Everyone feels anger at some time in their lives. But there's a difference between feeling and acting on those violent feelings. Humans are more then instinctual beings. I believe that we can find a way to solve our problems without using weapons. I believe in peace.

Quatre grinned as he watched the standing ovation Relena's words elicited. 

'It almost makes me think that maybe there will be a time when we won't have to fight.' 

The lock switched open on the front door and Quatre felt a surge of panic before a familiar figure walked into the house. 

"Uh…hi."

Trowa looked like a shade of his normal self. Dark circles could be seen under his eyes like smudges of dirt and he appeared to be exhausted. Quatre forgot his nervousness instantly and went into mother-hen mode.

"Trowa, what's wrong? You look terrible!"

The uni-banged boy seemed to loose some of his tenseness and moved a bit closer to the couch. "Nothing," he lied. "I'm glad you're up and about. We were all worried about you."

Quatre recognized the lie but decided not to comment on it. Confronting Trowa would only make him defensive and want to withdraw. Instead Quatre smiled and switched off the television.

"I wouldn't exactly call this up and about," the blond Arab joked, gesturing at his prone figure and the blankets and pillows tucked around him, "but I guess I'm glad too. My room's really boring."

Trowa smiled and sat down on the edge of the couch, still a bit uncomfortable, but not as much as he was before. "Wufei was afraid that he'd have to pry you out of there with a crowbar eventually."

"Yeah," sighed Quatre, a flash of guilt showing on his face. "I think I owe Wufei an apology. I kind of snapped at him earlier."

"He'll forgive you. Wufei isn't one to hold a grudge," Trowa comforted.

"So…" 

"So…"

Both boys suddenly lapsed into silence, having run out of things to say. Trowa's gaze flicked around the room nervously while Quatre cleared his throat.

"Trowa?" he asked, his voice taking a softer tone then the previous attempt at levity. 

"Hm?"

"We were just having a conversation earlier, weren't we?"

"…yes, I guess we were."

"Oh. Then why'd we stop?"

Trowa's gaze snapped back to the blond on the couch and their eyes met, baby blue staring into forest green. For a moment, Trowa forgot what the question was, his mind filled only with thoughts of how beautiful the boy in front of him was, even after having lost so much weight and with such a haggard appearance. It was a matter of time before Trowa realized that Quatre was still waiting for an answer.

"I…don't want to say the wrong thing and hurt you again. I don't know how to speak to you in a way that will be safe for both of us."

Quatre digested this answer, as honest and painful as it was, and gave his lover an understanding nod.

"I'm scared of saying the wrong thing too. But I'm even more scared that you'll decide to go away from me and we'll never talk again. I don't want to hurt you either—"

"You didn't," Trowa blurted out, eyes watering at the sight of the pain and confusion on his lover's face. "It's my fault."

Quatre smiled and shook his head firmly, leaning forward to grasp one of Trowa's hands in his own. "It's neither of us' fault. No one knows the right thing to say all the time. But you told me you understood, and that I wasn't alone. I think you do know what to say better then anyone. You don't have to be perfect. We could…we could help each other to learn how to be…safe. That is…if you want to."

Trowa blinked away tears and the corners of his lips turned upwards in a trembling smile. 

"I want to. Very much."

Quatre opened his arms and Trowa crawled into them and buried his head in the blonde's shoulder, much in the same way Quatre had wept in his arms on that awful night that seemed to be both decades and seconds ago. The two boys held each other in silence that was no longer awkward, but strangely comforting. When it seemed that Trowa had run out of tears to shed, Quatre gave the boy one more squeeze and then pulled back, smiling.

"Want to go get some soup? I'm kind of hungry," the blond offered, hopefully.

"Sure," Trowa smiled, and the two headed off to the kitchen.

When Duo came in a few minutes later, Trowa was already flipping grilled cheese sandwiches and Quatre was draining the last bit of soup from the mug he had not managed to finish that morning.

"Well, looks like I'm just in time for lunch," the braided boy remarked as he leaned casually against the kitchen door. "Good thing too, I'm starved."

"Sorry we didn't wait for you, but I didn't know how long you'd be," Quatre said. Duo waved the apology off and plopped down into the chair across from the blond.

"Nevermind that. I'm just glad you're eating. And you got clown-boy over here to stop moping as well. That's applause-worthy material," Duo joked, leaning back in his chair and offering a large grin to Trowa.

"We just needed to talk," Quatre replied, blushing a bit.

Trowa nodded and scooped the sandwiches onto a large plate, grabbing the ketchup from the fridge before bringing his bounty to the table. Duo wasted no time in snatching himself a sandwich and dousing it with ketchup. Trowa watched the braided boy try to stuff an entire half into his mouth with amusement.

They ate lunch in relative silence, the only sounds being of chewing and swallowing. Quatre was only able to eat half of one sandwich but Duo considered that an improvement, seeing as he'd finished his soup from earlier. Besides which, the boy no longer looked like he was going to fall over at any minute and his cheeks had gained some colour back. Trowa looked a lot better as well, but Duo suspected that had more to do with the company then with then food.

"So," Duo said after they'd finished, "do you feel up to starting what we talked about earlier, Q-man?"

Quatre's face flushed and he risked a glance at Trowa, who was eyeing them both with confusion. "If you want to. I'm ready. But…how exactly are we going to do this."

Duo grinned and there was a flash of Shinigami in the curving of his lips. "No problem. I've got just the thing. But we should probably warn Wufei before hand or he's going to freak out about the noise."

"Noise?"

Trowa frowned. "What are you guys talking about?"

Duo tossed a questioning look at Quatre who smiled and shrugged, implying that it was okay if he told Trowa what was going on.

"We're going to have a little…anger therapy."

"Huh?" Trowa looked even more confused then before.

Duo ignored the lost looks he was receiving and went on, "You know, you look like you could use a little anger therapy as well. Why don't you come with us? If you don't mind that is, Quatre?"

"It's okay with me."

"Uh…"

"Come on, it'll do you good!"

"Fine. Just promise me whatever we're doing doesn't involve a kareoke machine."

Duo fake pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're mean!" he cried, sticking out his tongue and blowing Trowa a raspberry.

Quatre laughed and shook his head. Some things really didn't change. For the first time in a long while he felt almost normal, except for the tiny tendrils of fear that still clustered in his belly. 

'Can't be helped,' he thought. I won't be able to really relax until I know for sure…'

"So let's go pop in and see Wufei first, and then we can all head down to the rec room," Duo crowed, interrupting Quatre's thoughts.

The boys followed the braided pilot up the stairs, at a much more dignified pace, to Wufei's room. The door was closed it took a few moments for the door to open after Duo knocked. Wufei seemed surprised to find all three boys together outside his door but he recovered his composure quickly.

"What is it Maxwell?"

Duo grinned and said, "Well hello to you too, Mr. Grumpy. We just wanted to tell you that there's going to be some loud music, maybe screaming, down in the rec room for a while. Just so you don't freak out and think we're dying or something."

"I see," Wufei said. "And may I ask why there will be screaming and loud music?"

"Tension release," Duo replied. "Wanna come with?"

Wufei shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I prefer meditation to…whatever it is you do. But maybe we could all have tea or something after you guys are…finished."

Duo nodded and gave Wufei a small bow before bounding down the stairs towards the rec room, with Trowa in tow. Quatre held back, staring at Wufei awkwardly in silence. Finally the Chinese boy spoke.

"Is there something else Quatre?" he inquired politely.

"I…I wanted to apologize for the way I acted this morning. I guess that not eating was affecting my brain or something. I didn't mean to snap at you like that," Quatre said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"It's already forgotten. I'm just glad you're feeling better now."

"Yeah. I'd better go before Duo's comes back to see what's going on."

Wufei nodded and watched as Quatre headed down the stairs and smiled. 'I guess praying to the ancestors really works after all. Thank you, Nataku. I'll have to buy you new incense for this.'

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Duo slid a tape into the stereo system and turned the volume up as high as it would go. He then looked over at his students thoughtfully.

Quatre looked nervous and Trowa…well Trowa just looked confused.

"All right, first of all I want to explain something. This," Duo spread his arms wide to indicate the room, "is a safe space. Nothing in here can harm you and you can't harm anything. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But you also don't have to be afraid of expressing your emotions or letting yourself go, okay?"

Quatre nodded and after some hesitation, Trowa nodded as well.

"If you want to punch something you punch the bag," Duo pointed to the gray, dingy punching bag in the corner, "Or the pillows. Don't punch the wall 'cause it fuckin' hurts. Of course, there's other satisfying things to do, like scream, and rant, and my favorite, sing along."

"I thought you said no kareoke," Trowa teased.

Duo mock glared at him before turning to look at Quatre. "In here it's okay to be angry. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to want revenge in here. You don't have to be a good boy, a good person, a forgiving man in here. You don't have to like what's happening. You don't have to smile or be strong. Just go with whatever feeling come natural, okay? No judgments."

"No judgments," Quatre agreed, swallowing down his fear. It was just Duo and Trowa here. He trusted them. He could do this. "I'm ready."

"Me too," Trowa said, finally getting what this was all about. "Let's start."

Duo nodded and pressed a button on the stereo. Loud electric guitars screamed at them and a haunted, angry voice rose out of a pounding drumbeat.

"Close your eyes," Duo ordered, shouting over the music. "Just listen to the lyrics and feel."

**__**

Someone told me once  
that there's a right and wrong,  
and that punishment  
would come to those  
who dare to cross the line.

Quatre concentrated on the lyrics, his eyes tightly shut and fists clenched at his sides. He could feel his blood pounding in rhythm with the song as he struggled with the feelings the music triggered.

**__**

But it must not be true  
for jerk-offs like you.  
Maybe it takes longer to catch a total asshole.  
but I'm tired of waiting.  
Maybe it's just bullshit and I should play GOD,  
and shoot you myself.  
Because I'm tired of waiting.

Trowa gasped at the fury in the voice and the images that danced in front of his closed eyelids. This was pure anger, pure revenge-seeking fury and disgust. It was the same thing he'd felt at the police station, the same almost overpowering rage at the system that was failing his lover. He'd stuffed the violence down into himself to deal with at a later time. 'I guess this is a later time,' he thought and opened his eyes a sliver to peek at Quatre. The blond was very pale and his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists but his face was calm and his eyes remained tightly shut.

**__**

Consequences dictate   
our course of action  
and it doesn't matter what's right.  
It's only wrong if you get caught.  
If consequences dictate  
my course of action  
I should play GOD   
and shoot you myself.  
I'm very tired of waiting.

Duo felt the familiar throb of the music in his ears and sighed, mouthing the words to himself. He let the images of blood and violence creep over him and named each action, each imaginary strike of the fist or shot of the gun, each swing of the scythe, and let it go from his system, out into the music where it couldn't hurt him. Tension rippled through his body and then drained out of him, like water. Duo longed for the punching bag but told himself to be patient. 'Tro and Quat are going to need some guidance here. I doubt that they've let themselves acknowledge their anger that much, let alone work through it.'

**__**

I should   
kick you,  
beat you,   
fuck you,  
and then shoot you in your fucking head.

The last painful scream echoed in Quatre's ears as the tape finally shut off and the room was left in total silence. Warily, Quatre opened his eyes only to have Duo snap "close 'em" at him. Quatre obeyed and trembled a bit as he heard footsteps draw nearer to where he stood.

"What do you feel," Duo's voice asked somewhere near his right ear.

"I…nothing. I don't feel anything," Quatre responded, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. He didn't want to cry again. Not here in front of everybody. 

"Don't hide. What do you feel?" Duo persisted, his eyes flickering to Trowa who had come to stand by Quatre, unconsciously offering support and protection. He turned his attention back to the blond who was frowning deeply now, his eyes still closed.

"Fear. I feel fear."

"What are you afraid of?"

"You'll hate me."

"We won't. We would never. No judgments."

"I'm a pacifist."

"Pacifists get angry too."

"I have to control my emotions."

"Why?"

"Because…"

"Why?"

"I don't want to become that."

"Become what?"

"LIKE HIM," Quatre shouted, nails biting into the flesh of his palms. He shuddered as two hands closed around his shoulders and shook him slightly. Quatre opened his eyes to see Trowa's face in front of him.

"You could never become like that. You're nothing like that monster," Trowa swore furiously.

Quatre shook his head. "In my dreams he tells me. It'll all come full circle. If I let myself feel…it's so dark inside me!"

"That's why you have to let it out," Duo said, softly. "What happened to you was wrong. You're not a bad person for wanting revenge. You're not evil for feeling anger. Feelings and actions are two different things. There's no judgments here. You're in a safe place. Tell me what you feel."

"I'm angry."

"Why?"

"He hurt me. He used me…like I was a _thing _and then he smiled. He RAPED me and he won't even be punished for it. I…I HATE him."

"Do you want to see him punished?"

"YES."

"What do you want?"

"I want him to hurt. I want him to feel what I feel. I want him to die."

"Do you want to kill him?"

"YES."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm better then that. You fucking asshole. You monster. You JERK-OFF. I'm a good person. I don't have to be violent. I don't need to justify myself like that. This is for me, not him. This is for me. I don't believe in violence. I believe in peace. I believe in peace."

There was a stunned silence as Quatre opened his eyes and looked around the room, somewhat disorientated. His gaze rested first on Trowa who looked both shocked and proud and at Duo who was grinning big enough to split his face. 

"Yes!" Duo crowed and threw his arms around the smaller blond in triumph. "That was great Quatre. You're absolutely right. I'm so proud of you."

"Me too," Trowa said, giving Quatre a full smile.

The blond Arabian had tears of rage spilling down his cheeks but his hands had stopped shaking and the corners of his lips were turned up in a smile. For the first time since the rape he didn't feel afraid of letting his emotions show. He didn't have to be ashamed of this. This was normal. This was anger. 

Duo played the song again and this time Quatre released his anger on the poor punching bag in the corner. Kicks, punches, roundhouses. The form didn't matter, all that mattered was the tension and the release that came from giving his anger, his violence to the bag. Sometimes he called out curses while he beat the bag. Sometimes he sang along to the words on the tape. Sometimes he just screamed, wordless angry screams that were a protest, a vehement condemnation of what happened to him. And endless repetition of what he really wanted to say, what he wished he could have screamed out loud that day, what he had wanted to scream every day since.

'NO.' 

When the last shriek erupted both from the tape and Quatre, the boy collapsed, exhausted and panting, onto the carpet. His arms hurt, his head pounded, and his eyes stung from crying. And he felt great.

Trowa and Duo dropped to the ground beside him, both wearing identical expressions of pride and relief.

"You did it," Trowa whispered, lacing his fingers through Quatre's.

"Yeah, I did." Quatre gave his lover a brilliant smile, one they hadn't seen in weeks. It was good. It was enough.

"Let's go upstairs and bug Wufei for that tea, hm? I need to relax a bit, my legs feel like jelly," Duo admitted, laughing.

Trowa stood carefully and helped the others to their feet. They made their way up the stairs slowly, feeling slightly awkward about venturing out of the rec room. It was somewhat like coming out of a cave. Quatre felt exposed but more relaxed then he'd been in a long time. They met Wufei in the kitchen where he was already pouring cups of tea and coffee. Duo had squirreled away some gingersnaps that had survived Heero Yuy's massive sweet tooth and he shared them with the rest of the group. They munched the cookies and talked quietly with Duo dominating the conversation as usual.

Time passed quickly and soon moonlight was streaming in through the kitchen window and Duo was staring pensively out into the darkness. Quatre saw this and hastened to comfort his friend.

"Heero will be back soon."

As if on cue, the front door swung open to reveal the cobalt-eyed pilot, dirty but unharmed, with a wide, flat envelope clutched in his hands. Duo leaped from his chair to go embrace his lover and the rest of the pilots followed behind, more sedately.

After Duo was through convincing himself that Heero really was okay, the Japanese boy pulled away from his lover's hands and turned to where Quatre stood, placing the envelope in his hands.

"Here. This is yours," he said.

"What is it?"

"The results of your blood test."

Quatre's eyes widened and the envelope fell from his fingers to the floor where Trowa hastily scooped it up and deposited it back into his lover's hands.

"How did you get those?" Wufei asked. "The hospital said we wouldn't be able to get the results for another two weeks yet."

Heero smirked coldly. "You'd be surprised how fast these guys at the lab can work with a gun pointed at them."

"Heero how could you!" Duo gasped.

"Relax. I gave them enough money to cover the extra cost of the rapid test. They just needed a little persuasion in order to make an exception for Quatre's blood work. I wasn't actually going to shoot anybody."

Duo shook his head in disbelief but soon turned his attention back to Quatre, who was still standing frozen with the envelope in his hands. "Well…are you going to open it?"

Quatre seemed to shake out of his trance and his trembling fingers rose to tear open the envelope. There was total silence as he read the contents inside. Trowa resisted the urge to peek over his shoulder and held his breath.

'Please God please God please God please God please…' 

"Oh shit…" Quatre whispered and Trowa nearly hold himself back from ripping the papers out of the boy's hands and reading them himself.

"What? What is it?" Duo yelled, his hands clenched into a death grip on Heero's jacket.

Quatre's head lifted from the paper and his smile was nearly beatific in its joy.

"I'm clean."

Duo shrieked and tossed himself at the blond, picking the smaller boy up and swinging him around ecstatically. Wufei and Heero watched with mixtures of relief and amusement on their faces, while Trowa ducked the flailing limbs of his lover and let out the breath he was holding in a silent woosh of air. Quatre laughed as Duo danced him all over the room and closed his eyes against the dizzying sense of release. He was clean. He wasn't going to die. He was clean.

Duo finally dropped the boy onto the couch and then danced away to tackle Heero, who was trying to avoid grinning and failing miserably. Trowa crouched down beside his lover and laid a warm hand against his cheek.

"I'm so glad," he whispered. "I'm so glad."

Quatre smiled back and reached his arms up to loop around Trowa's neck, pulling him slowly down for a cautious kiss. It wasn't hot and steamy like one of Duo and Heero's. There was no tongue, no rough invasion. But it was a gentle joining of lips and mouth and Quatre thrilled at the thought that he could be intimate like this once more. Fear seemed very far away at that moment. He wasn't broken, not beyond repair. 

'To be a survivor you have to survive. And I'm going to survive. Anyone who says otherwise and eat shit and die. I'm going to survive.' 

It wasn't everything. But it was a start.


	20. Rubies and Gold Epilogue

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story. 

Warnings: Mention of rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content.

~*~

RUBIES AND GOLD

rubies and gold  
star of my moonlight  
warmer than roses in spring  
the kingdoms were sold to hold their beauty  
well, i'd sell my life anyway just to say i held their heart in my arms  
there's strength in my soul  
  
rubies and gold  
you are to me  
you're a jewel on my chest  
warming my heart with your kisses  
a peaceful way to rest  
fulfilling my life long wishes  
  
and silently you're watching me  
stroking my cheek with your hand  
your eyes are deep yet filled with tears  
i've never seen so much love in a man   
  
rubies and gold  
star of my moonlight  
warmer than roses in spring  
the kingdoms were sold to hold their beauty  
well, i'd sell my life anyway  
just to say i held their heart in my arms   
there's strength in my soul   
  
rubies and gold  
you are to me

Tori Amos

~*~

Bleeding on The Inside – Epilogue – Rubies and Gold

Quatre woke first, still not used to sleeping through the night, all though the dreams had receded into less frequent, and less terrifying quality. He lay very still at first, feeling the warmth of a body close by him, an arm loosely wrapped around his waist, a strong heartbeat thrumming underneath his ear. This position was determined to be the "safest" Quatre could muster at the moment. His regular 'spoons' position, with Trowa wrapped around his back and enclosing him was a little to close to a memory to be comfortable. So they compromised.

Trowa was hesitant to touch him at all as they slept, claiming that he didn't want to frighten his lover, but Quatre was insistent that they remain close. And if their present position of Quatre clustered against Trowa's side, his head resting over Trowa's chest, did not change during the course of the night, there would be no danger. 

Quatre listened to the muted thrum of Trowa's heart, his head rising and falling gently with every breath the other boy took. He smiled and traced swirled patterns on his lover's pectoral muscles, stifling a laugh as the flesh goosepimpled under his fingers. Fingers suddenly wove themselves into Quatre's hair and he looked up to find bleary green eyes gazing at him curiously.

"Is it time to get up?" Trowa asked, his normally stoic features softened by sleep.

"Not yet, it's still early. I didn't mean to wake you," Quatre apologized.

Trowa smiled at him and shook his head. "Nevermind. I'm an early riser anyway. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just…thinking."

"Today's the big day."

"Yeah," Quatre sighed, going back to tracing patterns on Trowa's chest. "I'm kind of nervous," he admitted.

Trowa gently stilled Quatre's hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing the tips of the fingers reverently. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said. "We could always postpone it until later if you're not sure."

Quatre bit his lip and thought about it but then shook his head. "I need to do this. Even if I am nervous. There are just some things that…can't wait, you know?"

"I know," Trowa replied. "And I'm very proud of you for doing this."

Quatre blushed and ducked his head down into the crook of Trowa's neck, breathing in the slightly strange mixture of gunpowder and sandalwood. "I've only made it this far because of you guys. You've all been so supportive, so…there for me. If I hadn't had you to help me through the first couple of weeks I might have…"

Quatre's voice trailed off, the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air. He shivered and Trowa's arm tightened around him. 

"You would have still made it," the uni-banged boy whispered. "You're strong. The strongest of all of us. You would have still made it, even without me and the others."

"Maybe," Quatre whispered back. "But it would have been harder. So many people don't have friends they can count on, people they can trust or talk to. I was lucky. It could have been so much worse. I want to make sure that others _know_ that they don't have to do this alone. That there are places…I was so lucky to have you in my life, habib. You and Wufei and Duo and Heero…even Relena. You all gave me something special. You all made me want to keep going."

Trowa pressed a light kiss to Quatre's temple and smiled. "That reminds me," he said. "I've been meaning to ask you…what does 'habib' mean, anyway? Is it Arabic?"

"Yes," Quatre answered, his skin flushing in embarrassment. "It means 'beloved one' in my language. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Trowa murmured, trailing his hands slowly down Quatre's back, resting them at the base of his lover's spine, where the sheets twined low around his hips. "I like it when you call me that. But I'll have to start calling you 'amato' now."

"What's that mean?" Quatre asked, his breath catching as Trowa pulled him closer, lips hovering scant inches above the other boy's mouth.

"Spanish for 'beloved'. It suits you," Trowa said, stretching up to close the distance between them for a kiss.

Quatre's eyes fluttered closed and his lips just barely grazed those of his lover when a loud buzzing noise made him jerk back in surprise. Trowa groaned and turned his head towards the desk where the videophone was insistently informing them that they had a call.

"Accept call: audio feed only," Trowa said, the clear disappointment in his voice making Quatre want to snicker.

~Hey you lovebirds time to rise and shine! This is your special Maxwell morning wake-up call here to remind you that the day is half over, or at least it is for Heero who got up at 4:00 to jog around the block 50 times and irritate the neighborhood's canine population ~

~ Hn, baka. Give them the message ~ 

~ All right, all right. Have some coffee and chill, would ya? Look, Hee-chan and I are going to catch a ride with 'Lena down to the center after breakfast and Wufei is coming a bit later. We'll all meet you there ten minutes before opening okay? In the meantime, stop playing kissy-face and get dressed. Don't think I don't know why you have this on audio only~

Quatre blushed bright red at this announcement and Trowa scowled at the blank video screen. 

~ Try to get Trowa to wear something that isn't a turtleneck, 'kay? And well…good luck~

~ We're really proud of you, Quatre ~

~ You betcha. Knock 'em dead kid. Maxwell out ~ 

The phone clicked off and there was a moment of silence before Trowa sat up and slid out of bed, stretching lazily before whipping the sheets off of the blond. 

"Hey!"

"Come on," Trowa said, teasingly. "You heard Duo. Time to shower and get dressed. Today's the big day." 

Quatre pretended to pout before hopping out of bed and dashing into the bathroom. "I get all the hot water," he yelled through the door.

"Then I'm drinking all the flavored coffee," Trowa yelled back.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"It's hazelnut cream too. Your favorite, I believe."

"Bastard. I'll be out in ten minutes."

"I'll save you a cup of decaf."

Quatre made sure the door was locked and bolted, then took a towel and placed it under the door crack, jamming the space with cloth, before he started to shed his nightclothes. The ritual made him feel safer about being naked, and although he felt rather silly doing it, Trowa had told him that it was important that he feel comfortable. As Quatre turned on the shower and waited for the water to turn hot enough to make his skin pink up, he heard Trowa shuffling around the kitchen and smiled. 

__

'This seems almost normal. Trowa…I love you so much.'

"Better hurry, it's almost 9:00 o'clock," Trowa called from the kitchen and Quatre shook off his thoughts and turned to the business of cleaning last night's sweat and sleep from his body. Today was the big day. He would be ready.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Duo hovered anxiously near Quatre's kneeling figure as the blond boy dry heaved into the alter of the porcelain god. The Arabian had already expelled what little breakfast he had (coffee and a piece of toast) and his stomach was just going through the motions. After all while, the retching stopped and Duo handed Quatre a piece of toilet paper and a glass of water to rise the sour taste from his mouth.

"Thanks," Quatre gasped, sipping the water and spitting it out into the toilet. 

"You okay?" Duo asked, patting Quatre's pale cheeks until some colour came back into them.

Quatre nodded and stood up, readjusting his clothes. "It's just nerves. I'm ready to go out now," he said, giving Duo a weak smile.

"Well that's good, 'cause I think you just gave Trowa a coronary by running in here like that. Heero had to keep him from running in after you."

Quatre took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Let's go. The people are waiting."

They walked out of the bathroom to find a very worried looking Trowa being held in an iron clad grip of one Heero Yuy while Wufei looked on with amusement. 

"Are you okay?" Trowa asked, wrenching his arm out of Heero's now slackened hold and running over to fuss at his lover.

"I'm fine," Quatre reassured. "Just nerves is all. I'm ready to start," he said seriously, looking at Relena.

The girl nodded and gestured to the curtained platform. "Whenever you're ready. Just give the signal and they'll raise the curtain. And Quatre…"

"Yes?"

"This is good." She gave him a warm smile. "This is very good."

Duo tugged on Heero's sleeve and hooked an arm around a protesting Wufei. "Come on guys. Let's go take out seats, shall we? Break a leg, Q!"

Quatre watched with amusement as Duo managed to drag both Heero and Wufei along after him, with Relena following behind. He turned to Trowa and licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Well…this is it."

"You'll do fine. I'm so proud of you Quatre. Remember, no matter what, I love you."

"I love you too."

They embraced and then Trowa was gone and all that was left was Quatre…and the stage. The boy took a deep, calming breath and started to climb the stairs, nerves making him feel somewhat lightheaded. 

'I'm going to do this. I'm **going** to do this…'

Quatre stood on the stage and nodded to the person who waited to raise the curtain. Inch by inch a sea of anxiously waiting people appeared before him. Reporters with flashing cameras, politicians, business partners, and townspeople gathered below the stage. As Quatre came into view, a hushed silence fell over the audience and the boy felt a surge of panic. He sought out the faces of his friends and found them, in the front row, smiling encouragingly at him.

'We're proud of you,' Trowa mouthed to him and Quatre forgot his nervousness and just began to talk.

"Welcome members of the press, ladies and gentlemen, to the opening of WEI Center for Survivors of Rape and Sexual Assault. The Center, I hope will become a place where experienced counselors and support groups can come together to provide legal, medical, and practical advice for those who are suffering from rape and assault. The Center will also provide a hotline service, connected to professional counselors who are also survivors, available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, completely free of charge…"

Watching Quatre speak, Trowa had to agree with Relena. This was good. This was very good. 

__

'Well done, amato. Well done indeed.'

The End. 


	21. End Notes

Bleeding On the Inside – End Notes

Hello friends,

This has been quite a year for me (or year and a half, I guess I should say) and I want you to know that I appreciate every single person who took the time to read this story, leave a review, write me a letter, or show the story to others. For those that read this and saw themselves and gained for themselves a voice in which to speak or tears to cry, I am glad for you. For those that read this and saw themselves yet cannot speak yet, I pray your time will come when you can, if only to yourself. For those that could not read this but sent me words of empathy, I thank you and entreat you to take gentle care of yourselves. You all deserve the utmost happiness and peace. Hopefully we shall gain it one day.

This hasn't been easy going and I've neglected much of my writing in order to keep on with this story. I thank you for your patience with me. This is the end of Bleeding On the Inside, but it is not the end of my story, because nothing ever really ends. Perhaps I shall continue a second book, going deeper into the healing process, which has begun here in BOTI, but we shall have to wait and see for now. 

Rape is a very real and very hidden problem in today's world. It can and does happen to normal people, male and female, young and old, rich and poor. Ignoring the problem has not made it going away. Denying the problem has not made it go away. And blaming the victims has not made the problem go away. I hope by acknowledgment, we can at least start on a new path to helping prevent rape before it happens, through education and social reform.

But more importantly, I wished to stress, in this story, the importance of a support group, of someone to talk to and cry on. Someone who understands and cares. Without his friends, Quatre might still have made it, but it would have been harder and it would have taken longer. Without my friends, Kracken, Shonny, Sailorcelestial, Little green, my Pandy's family, and everyone who gave me kind words of comfort when I needed them, I would not be standing where I am today. Thank you so very much.

Stay safe tonight,

Cherry Blossom 

WALK ON – U2

And love is not the easy thing  
The only baggage you can bring...  
And love is not the easy thing...  
The only baggage you can bring  
Is all that you can't leave behind  
  
And if the darkness is to keep us apart  
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off  
And if your glass heart should crack  
And for a second you turn back  
Oh no, be strong  
  
Walk on, walk on  
What you got, they can't steal it  
No they can't even feel it  
Walk on, walk on  
Stay safe tonight...  
  
You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been  
A place that has to be believed to be seen  
You could have flown away   
A singing bird in an open cage  
Who will only fly, only fly for freedom  
  
Walk on, walk on  
What you got they can't deny it  
Can't sell it or buy it  
Walk on, walk on  
Stay safe tonight  
  
And I know it aches  
And your heart it breaks  
And you can only take so much  
Walk on, walk on  
  
Home...hard to know what it is if you never had one  
Home...I can't say where it is but I know I'm going home  
That's where the heart is  
  
I know it aches  
How your heart it breaks  
And you can only take so much  
Walk on, walk on  
  
Leave it behind  
You've got to leave it behind  
All that you fashion  
All that you make  
All that you build  
All that you break  
All that you measure  
All that you steal  
All this you can leave behind  
All that you reason  
All that you sense  
All that you speak  
All you dress up  
All that you scheme...   



End file.
